


Tainted Spirits for Three

by sweetlullabies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basketball Player Harry, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Exes, Fluff and Smut, Groping, Hand Jobs, Love Triangles, Lust, M/M, POV Alternating, Rimming, Sex, or at least i feel its a happy ending, some of ya'll might end up mad, that's pretty much as dirty as it gets, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8853220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlullabies/pseuds/sweetlullabies
Summary: Louis was walking alongside the bleachers when an orange flying object nearly took his head off.  Well, it missed, but it was still pretty close, and it hit the bleachers and bounced around before rolling to a stop.  Louis turned in the direction the ball came from, in order to see who this was that had decided to kill him.“Sorry,” Harry said, scratching at his curls.  “I just, uh…lost control.” or the au where Harry loves Louis, and Zayn does too, which results in confusion that tests Louis' relationships with both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this story for shakiba, so give her thanks for coming up with such an amazing idea for a fic!  
> her twitter is: [babyboyoon](http://twitter.com/babyboyoon)
> 
> the boys in this fic resemble themselves during their 2013 (tmh) era
> 
> louis only has one sibling in this fic, and only two of zayn's appear as well
> 
> {L} - louis' pov  
> {Z} - zayn's pov  
> {H} - harry's pov
> 
> lastly, if zouis isn't your cup of tea you might either wanna turn around or skip a huge chunk of this story. happy reading!

 

 

{L}

The sound of sneakers squeaking across the gym floor made Louis grind his teeth together.  It was similar to the feeling of knives being shoved into his ears, and he had to endure it every single day.

He really hated gym.

Although he was quite miserable at the fact that he had to take part in Physical Education, he was still somewhat glad that, since he was in ninth grade, he wouldn’t ever have to take it again.  That motivation alone was what kept him going.

Another positive aspect about it all was that Louis had gym at the very end of the day, right before the bells rung to mark the end of the school day, so he didn’t have to worry about changing back into his regular clothes at lightning speed and going to class all sweaty.

He was struggling through his last period of the day, nearly dead as he willed his feet to keep jogging, taking him around lap after lap of the large school gym.  He was currently on his last lap, but he was still certain his legs were going to give out at any moment, and the entire class would get to watch him topple over in defeat.

He watched as the other kids jogged in groups, laughing and conversing as though running was so easy, he watched as the certain determined group of boys ran like they were in a sprint for the Olympics, and then there were the huddle of girls who walked casually and ignored all of Coach’s warnings for them to run.

It was normal for Louis to run alone; he did it every day.  In fact, he did a lot of things by himself every day, and he never had a problem with it.  Most people didn’t appreciate his humor or acknowledge his intellect the way he wanted them to.  He definitely wasn’t _shy_ —he just wasn’t keen on talking to people too much.

Once his laps were finally finished, Louis found the usual corner of the gym by the bleachers to sit down and hide behind so he could get a second—or maybe the whole class period—to fucking _breathe_.  Everyone else went to participate in any physical activity of their choice, which was what the coach let them do every Friday.  Resting next to the bleachers had been Louis’ choice of physical activity for a while now.

He watched as the usual posse of boys who were _way_ too invested in gym, went straight over to the rack where the basketballs were and started dribbling away, shooting into the hoop, and doing whatever else basketball involved.  He wondered where they got all that energy.

It was always the boys who couldn’t get into the basketball team that spent all their free time during gym shooting baskets.  It amused Louis in sort of a bitter and pessimistic way, it really did.

Although none of these boys had ever spoken to Louis even once in their lifetimes, Louis felt like he knew a little something about each of them.  He wouldn’t admit that he _watched_ them every day, or something of the stalkerish sort.

His eyes followed Liam as he dribbled the basketball up the court, and he’d known that Liam was going to stick his tongue out in concentration right before he shot the ball.  He’d gotten used to Liam’s habits; how the boy literally stuck his tongue out every time.

Damn.

Louis watched as Alfred smirked every time he was about to cross one of the boys; Louis could see it coming before anyone else did.

So basically, he’d watched them enough to know things about them that he shouldn’t have.

He had the perfect view of them; could see the sweat dripping down their foreheads and sticking to the back of their t-shirts, the flexing of their muscles every time they gripped the basketball or moved to block someone.  It was a very rewarding spectacle.

Louis hadn’t even realized how hard his teeth had sunk into his bottom lip.

Probably his favorite person to watch play was Harry.  His face was always fixed in hard concentration, as though he only thought about one thing and one thing only as he played; it seemed like everything else blurred out and didn’t matter.  Louis had no idea why that was so hot.

He also knew how to dunk, so.

It helped that he was easy on the eyes— _very_ easy.  He had relatively short, wild curls that sat on his head, complimenting his face like his own personal halo.  It was truly unfair, how much the universe had granted Harry, because not only did he have god-like brown curls, he also had emerald eyes and dimples to complete the look.

Everybody that Louis had ever talked to loved Harry.  Louis didn’t blame them, because even though the boy was so hot he could literally flick Louis off and Louis wouldn’t care, Harry was _nice_.  Not once had Louis heard him make some sly joke about anyone or even snicker when the whole class had to watch someone struggle to climb the rope.  He usually rooted for whoever was having a hard time, which was something even Louis didn’t care to do.

Louis caught himself staring at Harry’s movements for a beat too long and averted his eyes before anyone could point him out.

“ _Louis!_ ”

Louis practically jumped out of his thoughts at the sound of his name thundering throughout the gym.  He turned his head to find Coach Barry staring at him, hands on his hips.

“Get up and _at least_ walk some laps, or you fail for the day!”

Louis’ face flushed as he heard some students giggle at him, and he let out a groan as he slowly pushed himself up to stand on his aching feet.

He started his slow, undetermined strides as he tried to tear his eyes away from the boys on the court.  They were just all really nice to look at, is all.

He watched as Harry accidentally let his ball roll away from him, and some girl brought it back to him, flashing him a flirty smile and getting a friendly one back in response, along with a gentle “thank you”.

Oh yeah.

Harry was also a guy who walked around the halls holding hands with a new girl every few months, so Louis figured he didn’t have a chance _._ That put quite the damper on all of his wishful thinking.

Shucks, right?

It seemed like an entire century had passed before the coach finally blew his whistle to signify the end of class, giving everyone permission to go and change in order to go home.

Everyone jogged to the locker room like their lives depended on it, but Louis took his time as he finished the last lap before he would reach the locker rooms.

Louis was walking alongside the bleachers when an orange flying object nearly took his head off.  Well, it missed, but it was still pretty close, and it hit the bleachers and bounced around before rolling to a stop.  Louis turned in the direction the ball came from, in order to see who this was that had decided to kill him.

“Sorry,” Harry said, scratching at his curls.  “I just, uh…lost control.”

He was the only one left in the gym along with Louis, and he was standing in the middle of the floor, staring at him.

Louis didn’t know what else to do but stare back, before he realized that he needed to stop acting like some star struck idiot.

“How do you lose control and send the ball flying all the way to this side of the gym?” Louis asked.  Yes, sassy was always the best way to go.

Harry just laughed, his dimples popping out and already causing Louis to smile too, naturally.

“I dunno. I just…”  He shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face.

Louis grinned back, unknowingly playing with his fingernails and shuffling his feet.  He didn’t quite know what the hell was happening.

“Do you wanna play one on one?” Harry finally asked, and Louis’ eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he realized he was talking about basketball.

Louis shook his head as he let out an almost hysteric laugh.  “I don’t do…sports.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Oh, c’mon.  I’ll go easy on you.”

The gentleness of his tone, along with the way his eyes were concentrated on Louis and nothing else, did the decision making for him.  Louis was sure this was going to be a complete train wreck, and Harry was going to wish he had never witnessed Louis even attempt to be athletic.

“Okay, fine,” Louis replied with a shrug, turning around to retrieve Harry’s ball from the bleachers.  “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Harry laughed some more as Louis tossed the ball to him, and he caught it firmly between his two palms.

The one on one game actually turned out to be a lot of fun, because it seemed like Harry didn’t really care about how much skills Louis had.  He spent the whole game giggling every time Louis knowingly traveled, and sometimes he would stand completely out of the way just so Louis could make one shot.

All Louis could think about during the whole thing was how this was the first time he’d ever had _any_ sort of encounter with Harry.

“I don’t think you’ve dribbled the ball at all in the last five minutes,” Harry laughed as he halfheartedly tried to block Louis’ path.

“My game, my rules,” Louis replied with a grin, before easily shoving Harry out of the way and attempting to shoot, missing the hoop by a good two feet.

Louis was less than willing to admit that half-assing this game was still very tiring, and he could barely catch his breath by the end of it, when Harry declared that he had won, 10 to 2.

Louis checked the imaginary watch on his wrist, bringing a cute giggle out from between Harry’s lips.

“There’s still about twenty seconds left on the clock,” Louis stated, before beginning to dribble the ball.  “How many points is a dunk worth?”

Harry scrunched his nose in response, trying and failing at attempting to keep his fondness at bay.  “How much do you want it to be worth?”

“At _least_ nine points,” Louis replied, to which Harry raised his eyebrows impressively.

“Okay, then,” Harry said, crossing his arms over each other.  “Let’s see you make that dunk, then.”

Louis held the large basketball in his tiny hands as he twisted around to look up at the hoop that was so, so high and so, so far.  Why did he agree to this again?

“Um…” Louis started, glancing over his shoulder at Harry.  “Opposing teams are allowed to help each other, you know.”

Even though his back was facing Harry, he knew the boy shook his head fondly—he could _feel_ it.  Louis nearly hopped out of his skin when the boy’s large hands settled around his waist, and he could feel his own feet dangling in the open air.  Holy Jesus.

Louis giggled as he let the basketball easily fall into the hoop, because the feeling of Harry’s fingers kind of tickled a bit.  His shoulders shook with laughter as he let his hands grip the rim.

“Okay, okay,” Louis laughed.  “Put me down.”

Harry did as told, his hands lingering on Louis’ waist for just a second longer after Louis was settled on the ground, long enough to make Louis consider doing things right there on the gym floor that he knew would get him in trouble.

Much too soon, Harry’s hands were gone, and Louis turned around to find him smiling; always smiling so bright and wide and making everything prettier, like a sunflower.

“Guess I won,” Louis said with a shrug, before skipping across the gym floor.

“Guess you did,” Harry replied, his eyes following Louis’ steps.  “Rematch tomorrow?”

Louis stopped in his tracks, turning around to face Harry and figure out if he was really serious.  Normally, Louis would’ve immediately told anyone off for even suggesting he do sports after school for two days in a row, but he wasn’t sure he could ever deny Harry of anything he asked.

Louis shrugged his right shoulder as a tiny smile poked at his lips.

“Sure.”

 

_~three years later~_

 

Whatever Mr. A’s lecturing about is fading in Louis’ ears as he taps his pencil against his notebook and watches the clock.  He’s very much ready for the school day to end, just like he is every day.  He hadn’t listened when people told him going to school would start seeming less important once he got into his senior year.  He only has to get through a few more months, and then he’s out of here.

He gathers his textbooks in his arms once the bell rings, and lets out a yawn into his fist as he starts towards the hall where his locker is.  The school is enormous, so it’s definitely a long walk, but Louis’ just greatful his locker is close to the exit doors.

“You seem tired,” he hears someone say to his right as he’s stuffing books in his locker.  A grin creeps on his lips at the familiarity of the voice.  He turns his head to Zayn, offering the boy a smile.

“I _am_ tired,” Louis replies, shutting his locker.  “I don’t know if I can do eight more months of this, let alone one.”

He leans his back against his locker and crosses his arms as he watches Zayn adjust his glasses over his eyes.  All of Zayn’s movements are always so gentle and precise, as though it’s impossible for him to ever appear clumsy or disheveled.  Louis doesn’t know how he managed to become friends with someone as soft spoken and calming as him, but he’s glad he did.  When Louis doesn’t feel like making human contact with anyone, he’ll always have a soft spot for Zayn.

“Just think of knowledge as a treasure, and not a chore,” Zayn replies, grinning lopsidedly at Louis.

Louis rolls his eyes at this poetic fuck standing in front of him.  Why does Louis love him so much?

What Zayn’s wearing is the foundation on which he bases all of his outfits; a soft black cardigan paired with gray joggers.  He always talks about how he prefers to dress comfortably over all else, which is almost similar to Louis.  The difference between them is Zayn wouldn’t sacrifice just a little comfort in order to catch some hot guy’s attention.

“Whatever, Z,” Louis replies with a shake of his head.

“And, uh…” Zayn starts, stretching out the sleeves of his sweater as something beyond Louis’ head catches his eye.  He completely disregards whatever he was going to say, instead looking down at his feet and pointing over his shoulder.  “Harry’s coming, so I’m gonna go.”

Louis rolls his eyes again, and this time it’s an actual eye roll that doesn’t have any endearment behind it.  He doesn’t even get to utter a “bye” before Zayn is gone, taking slow casual strides as he makes way for his own locker.

Louis lets out a shallow sigh.  He pushes his back up from the locker just as Harry approaches him, opening his arms wide for a hug.  A grin immediately spreads across his face from the comforting feeling of getting to rub his cheek against Harry’s shoulder.  The cotton material of his warm-up jacket is extremely soothing.  He closes his eyes as he feels Harry’s fingers gently card through his hair.

“I’ve missed you,” Harry murmurs into his skin.

Louis faintly traces his fingers along the back of Harry’s neck, watching as the goose bumps slowly appear.

“You’ve seen me twice today,” Louis giggles, pulling back and joining his hands behind Harry’s neck.

Harry presses his forehead against Louis’ as his hands slide down to his waist, barely gripping at the material of his t-shirt.  His dimples deepen as he sets his eyes on Louis’ lips.  “Every moment away from you feels like a lifetime.”

Louis shakes his head as he settles his chin back on Harry’s shoulder.  “Stop it.”

“I’m serious,” Harry replies with a giggle, moving so they can press their foreheads together again.  “I’m overall better when you’re around.”

Louis’ cheeks blush as he looks down, and he gets even redder when Harry’s gentle fingers bring his chin back up in order for them to lock eyes.  Louis presses his lips together in a tight grin to stifle all his emotion, to quiet all the pounds of affection threatening to burst out of his body every time he sees Harry.

“I missed you too,” Louis replies quietly, closing his eyes as he concentrates on Harry’s touch against his jaw.

Harry inches in towards him, just like Louis expected him to, and Louis allows it to play out right up until he feels Harry’s soft breaths tickle his lip.

“ _Nah ah ah_ ,” Louis sings as he moves his head to the side.  Harry whines in response.

Louis is introverted enough as it is, so it’s not a surprise that he’s not a big fan of public displays of affection, whether it’s being done by him or anyone else.  He’s pretty shy about that stuff, because people are always looking and waiting, it seems.  He feels that things like sweet kisses are much more special when done in private, and even though Harry whines, he’s convinced the boy loves the fact that Louis saves everything for his eyes only.

He caresses Harry’s hand in his as he makes his way down the hall toward the exit of the building.

They’ve both already established that they’re completely confident with being public as a couple long ago.  They’ve already lived through the blatant homophobia, the hurtful remarks, and Louis even had to witness one of Harry’s closest friends viciously turn on him—which was _extremely_ painful to watch.  All of it was in the past now—they both knew it was something they were going to have to overcome in order to be together, and Louis’ so fucking thankful that it’s over and he and Harry get to be a proper couple.  They’ve been so fucking happy for the last two years that they’ve been together, and Louis wouldn’t trade it for the world.  He wouldn’t go back and change _anything,_ or take away any of the angst even if he was granted the power to.  Finding out how strong and bulletproof Harry was as a person made Louis fall in love with him even harder, if that was possible.

Louis turns around once they exit the building, still holding Harry’s hand as he walks backwards.

“So—“ Louis starts, but of course he’s cut off by one of Harry’s associates greeting him.

And another.  And another.

Everyone’s incredibly pumped for the nearing basketball season, and lately Harry’s been flooded with words of encouragement and good luck wishes for the year.  Louis may still know close to nothing about basketball, but he’s fairly certain anyone with eyes can see that Harry is one of the best on the team.

Harry is always so sweet, accepting everyone’s words and greetings with a kind smile, all the while not letting go of Louis’ hand even a little bit.  God, he’s so fucking endearing, and he’s _Louis_ ’.

Louis speaks once he believes they’re in the clear.  They’re far from the premises of the school now, nearing towards Louis’ car that’s parked in the farthest spot possible because of how late he’d arrived to school.

“So, can you come over later?” Louis asks once they reach his car.  He turns around and rests his back against his car, pulling Harry in close by the collar of his shirt.

The dimples in Harry’s cheeks fade as he shakes his head at Louis.  He places his hands on either side of Louis’ head against the car, closing him in.  “Sorry, I can’t.  I’ve got practice until late, and then loads of homework to do.”

“If you planned your week out accordingly, you wouldn’t have to cram five days worth of homework into one night,” Louis replies, furrowing his eyebrows.

Harry chuckles, looking down at where the toes of their sneakers are touching each other.  “Don’t act like I’m the only slacker, though.  If _you_ were an athlete, I bet you’d do the same thing.”

“Sure,” Louis replies as he pulls Harry in until their chests are pressed against each other.  Harry brings his right arm around Louis’ lower back, right over the curve of his bum, and noses at his neck.

“I promise we’ll do something together this weekend,” Harry whispers, rubbing soothing patterns into Louis’ skin through his shirt.  “Just the two of us.”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s back, hugging him tight.  “I mean…we’ll get a lot of time to do tons of stuff together when we go to uni.”

Harry hums in agreement as he places a very soft bite on Louis’ neck, emitting a light gasp from his lips.  Harry’s body is completely shielding Louis’ from the outside world, and as much as Louis’ realized this in the past, he always gets ten thousand times more turned on when it hits him.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, and Louis can feel him smile against his neck.

It’s amazing to know the same butterflies go through Harry’s stomach when he thinks about how they’re going to college together, going to be _living_ together, going to be so fucking _domestic_ together.  It seems like a distant dream even though it’s only a few months away.

Louis places one hand on Harry’s cheek and gently moves his head so that their lips can connect effortlessly, just as they always have.  Harry’s lips feel like silk as they move against Louis’, warming his body up and relieving him of any tension he’d had before.  Harry’s like a solution for stress, Louis thinks.  Everyone needs a Harry.

Harry’s hands slide up the back of his neck and into his hair as he barely brushes his tongue against Louis’, leaving him curious and eager to taste more.

They make out properly, and Louis doesn’t know how much time passes before Harry pulls back, giggly and red as he continues to stare at Louis’ lips.  Even though this is probably the thousandth time they kissed, they both always get flustered after it happens.

“I love you, okay?” Harry assures him, brushing his thumb across Louis’ cheek.

“I love you too,” Louis replies before pressing one last kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry grips onto Louis’ hand for as long as he can before he backs away, knowing he’s already late for a practice.  Louis grins once Harry finally lets go of his hand and waves, before turning around and starting back towards the school.

Louis smiles at himself and doesn’t let it fade, even after he gets into his car and it doesn’t start up until the third attempt.

 

 

{Z}

“So…” Zayn starts, uncapping his water bottle.  “What are your plans for the weekend?”

Louis’ sitting across from him at one of the round tables in the cafeteria.  They’re alone, so they have the whole table to themselves, even though the entire cafeteria is packed and almost too loud for Zayn to be able to hear himself talk.

Louis’ eating a sandwich as he sits across from him, stuffing his face and somehow still succeeding in looking adorable while doing so.

Louis giggles once he tries to speak and realizes he can’t because his mouth is full.  Zayn laughs too, pushing the cap back down on his bottle and opening one of his notebooks.

“Me and Harry are doing something, I think,” Louis replies.

Zayn adjusts his glasses as he sets his elbow on the table.  “Ah.”

“What about you?” Louis asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin.  He quite literally has sweater paws from the grey jumper he’s wearing, which is causing Zayn to have trouble concentrating.

Zayn shrugs as he highlights something in his notes that he remembers his teacher had said was important.  “Probably just gonna do schoolwork in the quietness of my room.”

Louis sighs as he rests his head on his fist.  “God, I wish I loved homework as much as you.  Life would be so much easier.”

Zayn laughs.  “I don’t know what else to do with so much free time on my hands.  It’s not like I’m a social butterfly, like you.”

Louis scoffs dramatically.  “I am _not_ a social butterfly.  The only reason I ever go out and do anything with people is because of Harry.  If you heard about me a few years ago you would’ve thought I didn’t even exist.  _That’s_ how much I stayed away from being in the spotlight.”

Zayn makes a face as though he’s not buying it, even though he is.  He knows Louis is a shy guy at heart, which makes the fact that Louis is so comfortable with him even more heartwarming.  He and Louis are alike in that aspect, and that’s probably why they get along so well.

Zayn knows it’s only a matter of time before Louis gets that certain _signal_ from Harry once the boy finally enters the cafeteria, so he enjoys this time with Louis as much as he can before it’s gone.  Harry always comes to lunch fashionably late, as though it’s cool or something, and then he calls Louis over to join him and his loud, obnoxious basketball and cheerleader friends.

That’s Harry in Zayn’s eyes, and he doesn’t quite see the appeal, but…it’s whatever.

Louis reaches over and grabs Zayn’s notebook from across the table.  “What’s this?”  He gestures at an entire page of writing that has one of his teacher’s commentaries scribbled all over it in red ink.

Zayn shrugs as he grins.  “Oh, it’s just this writing assignment I got a good grade on.”

Louis reads the page closely.  “Zayn, Ms. Burns wrote that you’re the best writer in our entire grade.  Holy shit.”

Zayn just blushes some more, shaking his head to ward off all the flattery.

Louis tosses the notebook back toward Zayn.  “I’m nearly failing that class.”

Zayn actually gasps, ignoring how much of a geek it makes him seem.  Failing is sort of a forbidden word in his vocabulary.  He’s even more shocked by how indifferent Louis is.

“Louis, you can’t just _fail_ and not do anything about it,” Zayn says, trying his best to offer a stern look and failing when he starts to giggle.

“I don’t _want_ to fail,” Louis replies.  “It’s just hard.”

Zayn bites his bottom lip in thought as he closes his notebook.  “I can help you, if you want.”

Louis perks up a bit at that, quirking his eyebrows at Zayn.  “Like, proper tutor me?”

Zayn smiles as he nods.  “Yeah.  It’ll be fun.  We can have snacks and gain knowledge at the same time.”

Louis laughs as he drums his fingers on top of the table.  “Yeah.  That _does_ sound fun.”

They share a moment, exchanging smiles as Louis looks at him with those bright eyes that never dim out.  It seems like he’s about to say something, but then, of course, Harry calls him over.  He can hear the boy’s deep, raspy voice from far behind him.

Louis grins widely at something beyond Zayn’s head, which is obviously Harry.  He has a specific grin for Harry, and it irritates Zayn that he knows exactly what it looks like.  Louis gives Zayn a pat on his shoulder as he swings his bag over his shoulder and takes his stuff to wherever Harry and his crew of people are sitting.

This is pretty much part of the routine for Zayn’s day.  He always expects Louis to leave him at some point during lunch, and it doesn’t really bother him all that much.  He enjoys spending time by himself and doesn’t care that people may be judging him for being a loner.

Even though he takes pride in isolation, he’s very grateful for the fact that Louis is his friend.  He remembers how he met Louis about a year ago in eleventh grade.  They were both assigned to sit next to each other in art class, and Louis would always voice how irritated he was under his breath every time the art teacher would tell something to the class.  Zayn had always acted like he didn’t hear, because he didn’t think Louis had meant for anyone to, but one time he couldn’t keep from bursting with laughter after Louis muttered something about wanting to choke himself with paint brushes.  They both ended up sharing a quiet laugh, and Louis seemed pleased to find that Zayn appreciated his humor.

Ever since then, their friendship has grown to where it is now.  They would almost be inseparable if it weren’t for certain factors in Louis’ life, but Zayn’s still grateful he even gets to be as close to someone as he is to Louis.

Sitting alone isn’t always how Zayn’s lunch periods go, however.  Some days, long after Louis has already left him, his other friend, Niall, comes along and joins him after making sure to greet everyone in the cafeteria.  Zayn quite adores him also, even though sometimes his extroverted stature is almost too much to bear.

Zayn’s come to the conclusion that people have mainly two views on him; either they think he’s strange and allergic to people, or they think he’s attractive beyond belief and try to hit on him.  The latter proves itself more and more every time he has to sit through someone’s attempts at flirting with him, whether they are a boy or a girl.  The attention _is_ a bit flattering, but he’ll never admit it.  He doesn’t really care for dating, anyway.  There are many more important things to focus on during his senior year in high school—like not flunking out before graduation and maintaining his high GPA.

But back to Niall.

He also carpools home with the boy most days, because he lives close enough, and Zayn is a fan of saving gas and helping the environment in any way he can.  He also very much enjoys how enthusiastically Niall sings along to every one of the songs that come on the radio.

Unfortunately, he has to wait for the boy to be done socializing before they finally go, which is what he finds himself doing at the end of the day yet again.  He can’t quite put his finger on why Niall even hangs with him to be honest.   They’re polar opposites, but they somehow still work.

Niall tosses his keys in the air as he joins Zayn outside.

“Ready to go?” he asks happily.

Zayn nods in response as he places his hands in the pockets of his sweater.

“What could you possibly be conversing about for so long?” Zayn asks as he follows Niall down the front steps of the school.

“Oh, they were telling me about the big game coming up,” Niall explains, followed by a nudge to Zayn’s left arm.  “You should come.”

Zayn should also mention Niall is one of the _biggest_ fans of the school there is.  He’s that one person in the bleachers that’s always bringing air horns, megaphones, and screaming at the top of his lungs with his face painted in blue.  It’s admirable as much as it is ridiculous.

Zayn scrunches his face momentarily.  “I don’t even know what _big game_ you’re talking about.”

Niall laughs as though Zayn is being ridiculous.  “The basketball game!  It’s the first of the season.”

Zayn is shaking his head before Niall even finishes his sentence.  “Ah, I don’t think I would enjoy it.”

Niall nudges him again, causing Zayn to skid to the side a bit.  “C’mon.  Just go to the game with me.”

“And feed Harry’s ego?  I don’t think so,” Zayn replies as he looks down at the leaves on the ground.

Niall laughs yet again, filling the cool, fall air with his light and airy cackles.  “Harry’s a good guy, Zayn.  I don’t even think he _has_ an ego; he’s probably the most humble guy I’ve met.”

Zayn just furrows his eyebrows at the ground as he lets out a sigh.

“Zayn,” Niall says, his voice bearing a hint of seriousness.  “You’ve gotta at least _act_ as though you like Louis’ boyfriend.  Aren’t you supposed to be his friend?”

“I—“

“I’m pretty sure you _hating_ his boyfriend isn’t healthy for your friendship.”

“I don’t _hate_ him,” Zayn almost hisses.

He doesn’t hate Harry.

Really.

Once they get situated in Niall’s car and are pulling out of the parking lot, Zayn spots Louis walking down the sidewalk to get to his car.  He knows Louis is parked outrageously far because he was late to school and there were no spots left.  He doesn’t know why the thought that Louis is always late makes him smile to himself.  It’s a _what am I gonna do with him_ sort of smile.

He immediately rolls down his window once their car is close enough to the small boy.

“Have a nice walk, Lou!” Zayn yells, causing the boy to turn his head and flash a playful glare at the boy.  Teasing Louis is one of his absolute favorite things to do.

Zayn mouths the words “text me later” as Louis is flicking him off, and then Niall’s driven too far for him to see the boy’s response.

             

           

           

 


	2. Chapter 2

{L}

Louis’ laid on his stomach across his bed, feeling a bit sick as he scrolls through his phone to check for any new notifications.  He tries not to whine too much about his stomachache, because his mum had told him to limit how much candy he ate on Halloween and he blatantly did not listen.

He hears the constant crackling of candy paper as he lays on his bed, because Lottie’s sat at his desk absolutely devouring all the left over candy from what they had intended to give all the trick-or-treat kids.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be eating that much candy,” Louis says, rolling over to look at Lottie.

She shrugs as she dips her finger into some fun dip.

“My body handles stuff better than yours.  You won’t find me rolling all over the bed, whimpering like some miserable puppy,” she replies.

Louis narrows his eyes at her as he sits up, subconsciously trying to prove he isn’t _that_ sick.

“I’m fairly sure what you’ve just said doesn’t make any sense,” Louis says as he taps through his phone in order to reply to something Harry had texted him.

“Yes, it does,” she says matter-of-factly.  “I’m more physically fit than you, so my body can recover from things faster.”

“Sure,” Louis replies halfheartedly as he scrolls through his phone.  He faces Lottie as an afterthought.  “And how do _you_ know I’m not physically fit?”

The way she laughs almost offends Louis.  “I’ve never even seen you lift a box.  But then again, maybe you _are_ physically fit.  Maybe you and Harry do a lot of—“

“ _Stop_ ,” Louis pleads, covering his ears as he winces.  “You shouldn’t even— _think_ of those kinds of things.  You’re too young.”

“I go to sex ed class,” she replies, as though it makes her the most knowledgeable person in the world.

Louis doesn’t hesitate to pick up one of his pillows and throw it at her, smacking her right in the face and causing her to laugh uncontrollably.

Fortunately, the door to his bedroom opens before Lottie can say anything else about his and Harry’s sex life, and his mum’s head pops in.  Her eyes dart to the bowl of candy on Louis’ desk before settling on Louis.

“Zayn’s here,” she says with a grin, before going over and picking up the bowl off of the desk, causing Lottie to groan.  “He says he’s supposed to be tutoring you.  Want me to send him up here?”

“Please,” Louis replies as he tries to ignore the proud stares his mother is giving him.  He knows she’s overflowing with happiness at the fact that Louis is taking an interest in bettering his grades.  Little does she know, this is just a ploy to get free snacks from Zayn and have someone to talk to when he’s bored.

Once she leaves out to go and get Zayn, Louis kicks Lottie out as well, despite the rolling of her eyes.

He gets a text from Harry as he waits for Zayn to come up.

**Harry _:_** _thinking about you keeps me motivated. x_

Louis buries his face in his hands, because the boy is so fucking sappy.  He’s also at basketball practice, so Louis doesn’t even know how Harry is finding ways to text him.  The thought of him hiding in a corner or lying about using the bathroom just to send him that sappy shit has Louis’ heart beating out of his chest.

Louis’ still blushing on his bed when Zayn enters.  He has his school bag hung over one shoulder, and he’s wearing a fuzzy black jumper and trackies.  The jumper looks really comfortable; Louis wonders where he got it.

He offers Louis one of his warm smiles as he sets his stuff down.

“What are you so flustered about?” he asks as he starts to get textbooks out of his backpack, along with a large bag of cheddar popcorn.

“Oh, nothing,” Louis says with a shrug as he pats the space on the bed next to him.

Zayn immediately opens his English textbook upon sitting.  “So, the chapter we’re currently on—“

“Wait,” Louis laughs, setting a hand on top of Zayn’s book.  “You’re just gonna get _right_ into it?”

Zayn blinks at him for a moment before speaking.  “Yeah.”

Louis dramatically falls onto his back against the bed as Zayn giggles.

“What, did you think this was just gonna be some hangout session?” Zayn asks.

Louis smirks as he looks up at the ceiling.  “I thought something like that, yeah.”

“Well, I’m not gonna just let you fail your classes, if that’s what you want,” Zayn replies, placing a hand on Louis’ knee and shaking it playfully.

Louis sits up with a huff.  “Okay, I guess we can actually… _learn_ stuff.  Just pass me the popcorn bag, please.”

Zayn tosses it to him and Louis catches it easily before ripping it open.

Zayn begins talking about the chapter their class is on again, but Louis’ phone goes off and he moves to check it.  Another text from Harry has him smiling at his screen like an idiot.

When he looks up from his phone, he finds Zayn staring at him blankly.

“No more interruptions.  Promise,” Louis says as he quickly replies to Harry’s text before setting his phone aside.  Zayn nods halfheartedly as he tries to start back up the tutoring session again.

Louis attempts to listen to all that Zayn is saying and understand, and he’s almost starting to really get into it, but his phone goes off again and he just _can’t_ leave Harry hanging.

“Sorry!” Louis exclaims as he goes to check his phone.  “This is the last time, I swear.”

Zayn sighs in frustration, which, as an emotion, is rare for Zayn.  “How is he even texting from practice?”

Louis glances up at Zayn as he tosses his phone to the side for good.  “He finds a way.  Amazing, right?”

“Amazing,” Zayn replies monotonously, before directing his attention back to the text book in front of him.

They attempt to start again, and it starts going well for the most part—until Harry texts him again, and Louis only responds to him _one_ last time; but after _that_ , things start going in the right direction.  Louis feels like he’s actually being _taught_ material, which ironically, is something his teachers have yet to succeed in doing.

Zayn has a way with speaking that makes Louis understand everything he’s saying.  He explains concepts and ideas in clear terms, using words that Louis _understands_.  If Zayn was his teacher for every class, he’s sure he’d be acing every test.

He had made sure to let Harry know Zayn was going to start tutoring him, and Harry had been perfectly fine with it.  Although Louis was having a nice time with learning new stuff and being taught by Zayn, Harry had promised he was coming straight to Louis’ after practice, so he was sort of looking forward to that the whole time.

Louis has always been aware of how Zayn is a physical person around those he’s close to, so it isn’t a surprise when he uses Louis’ hands or arms to demonstrate a concept Louis doesn’t quite understand.  He uses Louis’ fist to give him a perspective on what degenerative matter is, and the way his fingers are so gentle always sends a wave of calmness through Louis’ body.  Zayn’s hands are soft and hesitant every time he reaches out for the boy.

They start to lose track of time as they stray off topic and try to throw pieces of popcorn into each other’s mouths.  They end up completely on a different subject from academics as Zayn starts to talk about how he hopes his lava lamp is okay.

Louis nearly coughs out the popcorn he had just put in his mouth as he laughs.  “You hope your _lava lamp_ is okay?  What does that even mean?”

Zayn laughs as he closes the textbook in his lap.  “I just remembered that it’s sitting on the edge of my bed.  If it falls over, it’ll crack open, and I really treasure it.”

Louis laughs some more as he hits Zayn on the arm playfully.  “I didn’t even know you had a lava lamp.”

“I got it not too long ago from some weird garage sale,” Zayn replies, and Louis can tell he’s really proud of it by his prideful expression.  “It’s really neat.”

“Well, you’ll have to show me it sometime,” Louis says, grinning at the boy sitting next to him.

Zayn grins back, his eyes sparkling with an enthusiasm that’s so rare for Louis to see.  He can tell that Zayn is truly in his element, and he’s honored to be the reason why.

The knocking at his bedroom door brings Louis to realize a _lot_ of time has passed.  Louis glances at the door as Zayn looks at the actual watch he has on his wrist.

“ _Louehh_ ,” he hears on the other side of his door.  He bites on his bottom lip at how obnoxious Harry is.

“It’s your mum.  Can I come in?” Harry asks in a voice that does not at all resemble that of his mother’s.

“Harry, I know it’s you,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes.

The door twists open and in comes Harry, all sweaty and disheveled from practice.  He’s wearing a white muscle t-shirt, his royal blue warm-up pants, and a sweatband is resting across his forehead and keeping hairs stuck to the nape of his neck.

Zayn’s packing his stuff into his bag as Harry’s setting his own practice bag down on the ground.   Harry stretches out his limbs wide and lets out a yawn before directing his eyes to Zayn.

Harry shoots Zayn a quick nod as the boy stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.  “Sup, Zayn.”

“I was just leaving,” is Zayn’s response as he moves across the room toward Louis’ door.

“I believe you were,” Harry replies.

Louis unknowingly starts biting on one of his nails.  It’s a habit of his.

Zayn turns to Louis before he can leave.  “See you.”

Louis nods with a smile.  “Yep, see you.”

Zayn moves to get through Harry in order to leave, but Harry stops him right before he can, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder.  He points at where one of Zayn’s folders is left on the ground.

“Left something of yours,” he says nicely, gesturing for the boy to retrieve it.  “Wouldn’t wanna leave something here and then have to come back and get it later, right?”

Zayn nods as he goes over to pick his folder up off of the floor and slide it into his bag.  “I don’t quite think it matters, anyway,” he says.  He goes to stand in front of Harry, looking him in the eye, even though the boy is a smidge taller than him.  “Because I’m coming back for tutoring tomorrow, and next day, and the day after that.”

Harry just grins as he shrugs his shoulders.  “Lovely.”

Zayn turns to Louis quickly for one last wave.  “Bye, Louis.”

He closes the door behind himself, and then Louis and Harry are left in his bedroom alone.

Louis’ eyes drift over to where Harry put all his stuff down by the door.

“So you’re sleeping over?” he asks hopefully.

Harry immediately softens and smiles as Louis gets up from his bed.  “Yep.  My mum knows, so it’s okay.”

Louis smiles so hard he’s sure his face is going to break.  “Awesome,” he says as he throws himself into Harry’s open arms.  He buries his face in Harry’s chest and takes in his smell of sweat, which arouses him in ways he doesn’t understand.

He lifts his head and presses kisses to Harry’s lips as they stumble backwards and Harry’s back hits Louis’ door.  Louis just _misses_ him; wants him around all the fucking time.

Harry caresses either side of Louis’ cheeks as he kisses him gently and sweetly.  Louis sinks into it as he brushes his knuckles up the sweat beaded skin under Harry’s shirt.

Their lips part and Harry strokes Louis’ cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“So he’s tutoring you every day?” Harry asks, before sucking Louis’ lips into his own again.

Louis smirks as he reaches over to lock the door behind Harry, just in case his mum decides to pop in at any moment.

Louis’ lips brush over Harry’s as he replies.  “Yeah.  How else am I supposed to go from a D average to at least a high C in English and Econ?”

They kiss some more, Louis’ dainty fingers starting to explore around the waistband of Harry’s sweatpants.

Harry presses a gentle finger against the tip of Louis’ nose, causing him to giggle against Harry’s lips.  “I’m not too shabby at those subjects.”

Louis can’t concentrate on kissing anymore because of how abruptly he starts laughing.

“Now _that’s_ a joke we can both laugh at,” Louis says.

Louis squeals excitedly when Harry’s arms curve under his thighs and lift him up, and he turns around so that Louis’ trapped in the air between Harry’s body and the door.

Harry kisses him again, and Louis wraps his legs tight around Harry in order to pull him in as close as he can.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Harry asks, before moving his lips down to Louis’ neck.

“I _know_ I’m funny,” Louis replies as he closes his eyes to the feeling of Harry sucking wet kisses into his collarbone.

Louis doesn’t feel his back against the door anymore as Harry carries him over to the bed, setting him down on his back and leaning over him.  Louis doesn’t unravel his legs from around Harry’s waist even a little.

Sometimes, Louis just can’t handle how pretty Harry is.  He’s hovered over Louis, beaming down at him with his award winning smile, and his face has patches of red from how tired he probably is from practice, and his curls are a wild mess that still appear as heavenly as always, some of the strands stuck behind the sweatband he has on—all of these things, along with a thousand more, are what drives Louis crazy each and every day.

“You know…” Louis starts, his voice quiet as he grabs at the bottom of Harry’s shirt and pulls it up to the boy’s chest, exposing his flushed skin.  “It was a little hard for me to concentrate on anything Zayn was teaching me.”

Harry lets Louis pull his shirt off, and he tosses it to the side before bracing his arms on either side of Louis’ head on the bed.  “Really?”

“Yep,” Louis replies as he drags his fingertips over Harry’s torso.  “In the back of my mind, all I could think about was how sexy you probably looked at practice, running up and down the court, sweating…” He bites his lip as Harry’s eyes dart down to his lips.

Louis brushes some of Harry’s curls out of his face as he moves his hips up just a bit to meet Harry’s.

“Your muscles _flexing_ ,” he whispers against Harry’s lips.

Harry presses his lips against Louis’ jawbone, placing soft drawn out kisses to the skin.  “What…else?” he asks, and Louis already knows he’s got the boy under his spell.  He knows how much Harry loves when Louis gets like this—the importance it gains from being so private and rewarding.

Louis grips onto Harry’s biceps as the boy sucks deeper on his skin, causing a tingle to spread from his neck down to every other inch of his body.

“I knew you’d be breathing all heavy, and…” Louis starts, letting out a shudder when Harry bites down.  “I wanted you to be panting about something else.”

A deep sound escapes Harry’s lips as he slides his hand down between them, feeling at the front of Louis’ sweatpants where he’s quickly beginning to gain heat.  He strokes his hand over it, gently coaxing him to grow hard as Louis grips tighter onto his arms.

A gasp escapes Louis’ lips as he bucks his hips up to meet Harry’s hand movements, and as Harry continues to give him light hickies, he can’t help but think about how fucked he would be if his mum ever found out he actually did stuff with Harry.  He’ll continue letting her think she’s still her little boy that blushes at the thought of kissing someone.

Louis’ eyes slip closed as he buries his hand in Harry’s hair, pulling him in closer to his neck.

Harry moves down to Louis’ chest, kissing as much bare skin as he can with Louis’ t-shirt still being on.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Harry murmurs, shoving one hand all the way into Louis’ briefs and reaching for his cock.  Louis gasps at the contact, his back arching up off of the bed a bit as Harry begins to stroke him slowly.

“Fucking _stunning_ ,” Harry continues, his breath hot against Louis’ neck.

Louis’ nails dig into the skin where he’s gripping Harry as the boy begins to move his fist a bit faster.  He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, trying his best not to come _this_ soon.  He wants to at least give the impression that he hasn’t been so god damn eager for Harry to touch him all day.

His moans come out in high pitched sounds that he’s pretty much always been embarrassed about, even though Harry always expresses how much he loves it.  The sounds coming from Louis’ mouth encourage Harry to go faster, picking his head up and joining their lips yet again.

“ _Ah_ ,” Louis whimpers, his nose pressed against Harry’s.  His breaths are coming out in short stutters as Harry pumps his fist with everything he’s got.  Louis twists his head from side to side, Harry’s lips catching his whenever they can.

His toes curl up and his legs tighten around Harry when he comes, and the boy kisses him through all of it.  It seems like it lasts a really long time, and Louis’ nearly fatigued from how strong it was, but he doesn’t waste any time in sitting up and pushing Harry onto his back against the pillows on his bed.

Harry’s eyes are a bit watery, which Louis came to realize always happens when he’s turned on.   Louis leans down and kisses Harry’s chest softly as the boy caresses his head.  He leaves a trail of kisses all the way to his right nipple, and the boy’s entire body flinches at the contact.  Louis loves how sensitive his nipples are.

He softly bites down on it, looking up at Harry and finding him with his eyes closed and his eyebrows knitted together.  He licks the spot to ease the pain a bit.

He shuffles all the way down the bed until he’s face to face with the front of Harry’s warm-up pants, and Harry’s eyes are now open, looking down at him with a hint of frustration hidden behind them.

Louis leans down and mouths at the fabric of his pants where his cock is under, just two layers beneath.  Harry’s hands reach out to grip at one of the pillows by his head.  Louis tries not to laugh at how much it seems like Harry’s about come.

He pulls down both his sweatpants and briefs, his cock springing free and flushed, nearly hitting his stomach.  Louis doesn’t let anymore time pass before he grabs it with his right hand and brings it to his mouth, sucking on the tip of it.

“Fuck,” Harry says under his breath.

Louis closes his eyes as he takes Harry deeper, his jaw widening as he attempts to go all the way down.

The fact that _every time_ Louis gives Harry head, he has to remind the boy that he’s okay with being manhandled—that he actually _likes_ having his mouth fucked—yet Harry always acts hesitant to do it, is as frustrating as it is cute.

Louis places his hand over Harry’s that’s placed gently in his hair and helps the boy _push_ his head down, for goodness’ sake.  Harry gets the message after a few moments, and he gives up on trying to keep his hips down on the bed.

Louis hums around Harry’s dick as the boy bucks up to meet his lips, hitting him in the back of his throat.  He only sputters a little bit, but he gets right back into it as he toys at Harry’s balls.

“ _God_ , Louis,” Harry whines, his fingers gripping tightly on Louis’ hair.  “You get better at this every time.”

Louis makes a choked sound around Harry’s cock in response.  He knows that Harry’s almost there, because his hips are starting to move without rhythm, as though he’s lost total control.  Harry uses both hands to shove Louis’ head all the way down, and he holds him there, his mouth hung open as Louis looks up at him.  Louis breathes through his nose like he’s taught himself to do.  After about three seconds of Louis taking him all the way down without sputtering, Harry comes extremely hard, all the way down Louis’ throat and a little bit on his bed sheets once Louis pulls off.

His own eyes are a bit watery as he wipes his mouth, which Louis likes to call a part of the experience.  Harry continues to lay on the bed, his breaths heavy as he licks his lips.

God, post coital Harry is so fucking _beautiful_.

Harry lazily reaches out for Louis’ wrist, pulling him in until he falls against his chest, and he holds him tight.

“I love you, baby,” Harry breathes, before pressing a kiss against Louis’ forehead.

“I love you more.”

 

{Z}

Zayn genuinely has no idea why he’s doing this.

Maybe Niall hypnotized him at some point and got him to change his mind about the basketball game, because that would be the only valid reason as to why he’s walking up the school’s sidewalk currently, Niall skipping next to him with a school t-shirt on.

“It’s gonna be so much fun!” Niall exclaims as he skips alongside Zayn.  He already has his megaphone in his right hand and the whistle hanging around his neck so he can “call a foul when the ref doesn’t do his damn job".

Zayn smiles as he picks up his pace to meet Niall’s.

They have to pay at the front to go to the game, which is already an inconvenience, and when they reach the gym where the game is being held, the bleachers are flooded with so many people that Zayn gets the urge to turn right around and leave.

They arrived a little late, so the opposing teams are already running up and down the court and the sports’ fans are shouting catchy chants.

Zayn winces a bit at how loud everything is as he follows Niall up the steps of the bleachers.  The boy immediately starts clapping hands with a bunch of other students, and within seconds, he gets his face painted with two blue stripes on either of his cheeks.

Zayn takes a seat and tries to appreciate the basketball game as much as he can.  It can’t be all _that_ bad, anyway.  It’s tons of people, coming together to celebrate and support their school.  Zayn would rather have this than to have everyone hate each other.

Halftime comes around fairly fast because of how late they arrived, and Niall takes that moment to run all the way down the bleachers and wave a giant school flag (where did he get that flag?) up and down the court, prompting everyone to jump and scream.

The cheerleaders come out to perform after a few minutes, fueling the crowd’s excitement even more.

Zayn observes the game once it continues, and it’s pretty hard to miss how well Harry is playing.  Pretty much every other shot made by his team is made by him; the cheerleaders even have a special chant specifically for him.

Truthfully, Zayn understands.  With all that praise given to one person, it’s impossible for that person not to grow such a big, cocky head.  _Zayn_ could probably stay humble though, but it’s clear Harry and Zayn are two different people.

The game’s getting tied up and every single person is standing up instead of sitting, making a loud barrier around Zayn and causing him to feel trapped.  When Harry dunks on an opposing team member, the entire gym erupts, and Zayn decides he doesn’t have to sit through all this noise.

He pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jean jacket and plugs in his ear buds.  He stuffs them in his ears and lets his mind return to a calm state as the sound of Tame Impala floods his surroundings.

He watches as Niall brings the megaphone up to his mouth and shouts something that Zayn can no longer hear.  The image puts a grin on his face as he lets out an easy sigh.

As his eyes wonder around his surroundings, he spots the figure of brown fluffy hair in the distance—at the very front row of the stands, to be exact—and it almost alarms him how he hadn’t realized Louis was there.

He’s one of the few people sitting down, just like Zayn is, and he’s watching the game intently and giving a little cheer every time something nice happens for their team.  It seems as though he’s rooting Harry on in his own little world, having his personal victory party every time the boy makes a shot.

Zayn knows how alike they are to each other; he just doesn’t think Louis does.  If the boy would just pay a little more attention, he’d realize there’s not much that’s different about the both of them.  He knows Louis would rather be somewhere quieter, wrapping himself in a blanket and listening to some music, but he’s here, because of Harry.

Niall leaves Zayn’s side for probably the fifth time since they’ve gotten there, and he runs up and down the sidelines, shouting something at the players as his face goes red with adrenaline.  Zayn huffs and takes that as his cue to move down the steps of the bleachers, spotting the open area right next to Louis.

He removes his ear buds as he sits down, Louis noticing him and immediately growing a smile on his face that provokes Zayn to return one as well.  Louis offers a fist out for Zayn to bump as they settle.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” Louis says, his voice straining a bit over the noise.

Zayn shrugs as he scratches his nose.  “Didn’t know I’d be here either.”

Louis laughs before telling Zayn about how he had to come to this because it was Harry’s first game.

“He’s uh…” Zayn starts, taking a short breath.  “He’s doing pretty good.”

He doesn’t want to admit that it was a little painful to say.

Louis’ eyes nearly sparkle as he grins and turns his head, watching as Harry dribbles the ball down the court with quick feet.  “He is, isn’t he?”  He directs his attention back to Zayn.  “So why’d you decide to come?”

“Niall somehow got me to,” Zayn says with a fond shake of his head.

Louis nudges Zayn’s knee with his as he speaks.  “Well, thank God for Niall.  I was sitting here all alone.”

“You know I always come to your rescue,” Zayn teases, poking Louis’ shoulder.  “Besides, it’s Friday.  I’ve got nothing to do anyway.”

“Staying at home and rubbing your lava lamp _is_ something to do,” Louis teases back.

“It’s a _lava_ lamp, Louis.  I’m not some genie.”

Louis chuckles and Zayn can see from behind the boy’s head how Harry is occasionally glancing over at them from time to time.

They continue their conversation, Louis now fully facing Zayn and not having looked at the court once in the last five minutes, but all Zayn can see is Harry, and his eyes shooting over to where they’re sitting when he’s supposed to be playing a basketball game.

The abrupt sound of the fans of the opposing team cheering with glee take Louis and Zayn by surprise, and both of them look over to find that someone has stolen the ball from Harry.

Zayn sticks his lips out as he observes the spectacle of the students from their own school, looking ahead despairingly.

Their school went from being tied with the opposing team, 33:33, to losing, 33:36, and it’s basically Harry’s fault.

Unfortunate.

“Do you think we can still win?” Louis asks, a hopeful look on his face as his eyes now follow Harry’s every move closely.

“There’s about ten seconds left, but wishful thinking may help.”

As if on cue, the buzzer sounds to mark the end of the game, and—Harry successfully shoots a three pointer right on time, causing the teams to become tied again.  Even Louis stands up to cheer as the game goes into overtime, and Zayn has to fight against putting his head in his hands from having to sit through this game even longer.

Eventually, their school’s team wins, and Zayn finds himself outside in the cold, autumn air, watching students exit the building in heaps and waiting for Niall to join him so they can venture out to his car.

“Those refs were so _stupid_!” is the first thing Niall yells once he comes outside.  “I’ll go to school and study to become a ref my fucking self, if—“

Zayn places a gentle hand on Niall’s shoulder, shaking him around a bit.  “Niall…the game’s over.  It’s okay.  We won.”

Niall lets his nerves calm as he looks at Zayn.  It has to be unhealthy, how passionate Niall gets about these kinds of things.

“Yeah, we won.  That’s all that matters,” Niall says, perking up a bit.  “Ready to go?”

Zayn opens his mouth to answer just as one of the players on the team comes up, hastily greeting Niall with a clasp to his shoulder.  The guy looks familiar to Zayn, but he can’t quite remember his name.

“Liam!” Niall exclaims.

Ah, Liam.

He’s sweating, still wearing his jersey, and has his sports’ bag hanging over his shoulder as he smiles at Niall.  “Thanks for being so enthusiastic, Ni,” he says.  “It really helps.”

“No problem, bro,” Niall says, crushing Liam in a friendly hug.

“We’re having a little shindig to celebrate the win.  You guys should come,” Liam says, gesturing at the both of them.  Zayn’s certain he’s never talked to Liam before.

The first thing Niall does is glance at Zayn, seeking his approval.

Zayn shakes his head as a shy smile grows on his face.  “No—I can’t…“

Niall punches him on the shoulder.  “ _C’mon,_ Zayn.  Please?”

“It’s a Friday night.  Come on,” Liam urges, giving Zayn the same hopeful look Niall is.

Zayn stands there, looking between them with his lips parted.  When did his decisions become so important?  He can’t handle this kind of power.

Harry appears out of nowhere, resting an elbow on Liam’s shoulder as he enters himself into the conversation.

“What’re you guys talking about?” he asks, curious eyes flittering between all of them.

“I’m trying to invite Zayn and Niall to the little get together we’re having,” Liam explains, reaching out and playfully pulling at Zayn’s jacket.

Harry’s dimples deepen as a grin forms on his face.

“You guys should definitely come.  We’d love to have you there,” he says, and Zayn hopes he’s not the only one that’s catching on to how fake nice Harry’s being.  It irritates Zayn to such a high degree that he has to refrain from balling up his fist.  He knows Harry’s just trying to hide the fact that he doesn’t want Zayn to come by asking him to come.  He’s easy to read.

“You know what?  I’ll come,” Zayn says.  It doesn’t surprise him when Niall takes his face and presses a giant kiss to his cheek, which Zayn wipes off with his hand immediately after.

They eventually end up at the “get together” which is actually just a mellow phrase for “huge party that’s completely out of control”.

Zayn ends up sitting in the far corner of a couch, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to ignore the sounds of the pair making out on the opposite end of the couch.  Someone keeps popping confetti every two seconds, and the air is so thick with the scent of weed that Zayn’s surprised neighbors haven’t called the cops.

Two different people have joined him on the couch at some point, attempting to engage in conversation with him and eventually take him upstairs and into a bedroom, but he gave them short, uninterested responses, which succeeded in driving them away so they would leave him alone, just the way he wanted.

At some point, the heavy bass in the speakers and the deafening screaming coming from drunken girls becomes too much, and Zayn pushes himself up from the couch in order to find a bathroom to escape to.  He wonders down one of the halls where there are only a few people loitering around, and after checking a few doors, he finally finds what he’s looking for.

He steps into the spotless white bathroom and moves to close the door behind himself, but finds the door halted by some unknown force.  He turns his head to find none other than the famous Harry, preventing the door from being closed and letting himself in, much to Zayn’s surprise.

“Are you trying to hook up with me?” Zayn asks jokingly as Harry closes the door behind himself.

Harry shakes his head, his eyes growing serious.  “No.  I love Louis.”

Zayn crosses his arms as he maintains steady eye contact with Harry.  “Okay then.  Wha—“

“I just…I wanna…” Harry starts, gesturing vaguely with his hands as he tries to get his thoughts together.  “We’re clear on the fact that Louis’ my boyfriend, right?”

Zayn nods his head hesitantly, averting his eyes to Harry’s chest.  “Yeah.”

Harry scratches the back of his head.  “I just wanna be sure that you…that you don’t—“

“Harry, Louis’ one of my best friends,” Zayn says, his voice a smidge quieter.

“I know,” Harry replies.  “I get that.  I just don’t want you to get some crazy idea.”

“I won’t.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to.”

“Great, because I won’t.”

Now Harry grins, because he’s so entitled and feels as though he has full rights to anything in the world.  He grins his fake grin before he opens his mouth to speak again.  “Awesome.  So…we’ve had this talk.  There shouldn’t be any trouble in the future,” he says, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

“I get it, Harry,” Zayn replies, proceeding to set his jaw tight.  He takes Harry’s hand and removes it from his shoulder, wiping the smug expression right off of Harry’s face.  “Now can I piss?”

Zayn can _hear_ Harry grind his teeth together before he answers.  “I’ll leave you to it,” he says as he twists the doorknob behind him and lets himself out—but not before Harry, the glorious Harry Styles, gives Zayn an actual scowl.

Zayn’s not sure if this is real life anymore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for reading! give me your thoughts, comments, emojis, everything is appreciated. i'll update next week :)


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

{H}

Harry wipes sweat off of his forehead as his feet carry him across the track.  He’s not even sure what number lap he’s on; he just knows he has to keep running until Coach Barry blows his whistle for them to stop.

He’s pretty sure the coach hates them, because instead of running laps inside the gym, where there’s air conditioning and less area to cover, he’s making the team run outside, along the giant laps the race track has.

“If anyone walks, everybody gets another lap!” Coach yells, prompting all the boys to pick up their pace and groan.

Harry just keeps his pace nice and steady, determined as he feels his shirt sticking to his back.  He continues to tell himself that this is the hardest part, and that he just has to get through this so that the rest of practice will be a breeze.

Harry glances over his shoulder at his teammate Liam, who’s a few feet behind.  “Come on!” he shouts, urging the boy to speed up.  “You’re supposed to be my running partner!”

Liam catches up to Harry with some difficulty, and he’s breathing far more heavily than Harry is.

“Coach is being brutal today,” Liam pants as he jogs.

“He’s just trying to help us,” Harry says through steady breaths.

“I don’t think I can keep running,” Liam whines, already starting to slow down again.

Harry turns his head back to look at him, his expression resembling disappointment.  “Liam!  If you make us get extra laps, I swear—“

He gets cut off by the sound of Coach Barry blowing his whistle to signify for them to start walking.

He clasps his hands on top of his head as he starts to walk his last lap, closing his eyes and feeling Liam’s footsteps catch up to him again.

“What was that?” Liam asks teasingly.

“Shut up,” Harry says.

They get a ten minute break after they walk one last lap, and Harry uses that time to go over to his bag and check his phone for texts (Louis) as the Coach yells at them about endurance.

“Also, let’s all clap for Harry,” Coach says, his volume loud enough to catch everyone’s attention.  “He made a total of 17 points at our last game!”

Harry ducks his head as all of his teammates applaud him.  “Thanks, guys.”

He gets numerous pats on the back from everyone as they pass by him, and he feels overwhelmed with flattery.

He pulls his phone out of his bag after digging for quite a while, and sees that he has a text from Louis.  He takes a gulp out of his water flask as he reads it.

 **Louis** : _whyy do u think the sun leaves just in time for the moon?_

He stares at the text for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows.  Another text makes his phone vibrate as he’s holding it in his hand.

 **Louis** : _does it know the exact time the moon will arrive_

A deep breath is exhaled from Harry’s mouth as he runs a hand through his hair.  He takes another large gulp of his water as Chase comes next to him and peers over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know Louis was such a deep thinker,” he comments, causing Harry to laugh.

“He’s just high,” Harry says with a shrug, tapping his screen in order to text Louis back.

Chase’s jaw almost drops to the floor as he stares at Harry, and Harry contemplates reaching out and closing his mouth himself.

“Louis— _your_ Louis?  High?  Doesn’t sound like him,” he says.

“You don’t know him,” Harry replies, trying and failing at not sounding offended.  He bites his tongue as steady eyes move back to his screen, preparing to text Louis back.

 **Harry** : _the earth rotates on its axis, babe_

His phone gets tossed in his bag before he swings it over his shoulder and begins filing into the gym with the rest of his teammates.

“Ever since he’s been getting Zayn to tutor him, this has been happening,” Harry explains to Chase as they walk alongside one another.  “Like, they do it together, or something. I dunno.”

Chase punches Harry lightly on the arm.  “Guess Louis’ not such a square after all.”

Harry shoots him a look as the fresh feeling of air conditioning hits him when he enters the gym.

“You guys talking about how Louis' turning into a pothead?” Liam asks playfully.

“He’s not a fucking pothead,” Harry hisses as he puts his bag down.  “He knows his limits.”

“Look at _you_ ,” Chase teases, poking Harry in the side.  “Talking like you’re his mum.  So protective.”

Harry ignores Chase and Liam’s giggles as he begins stretching his limbs out.  He knows that there’s no way Louis’ mum could know about his adventures of getting high with Zayn, because she’d almost flipped her shit the first time Harry had slept over in the same bed as Louis.  She’s a very nice woman, honestly, but she’s just very cautious and sometimes smothers Louis with how closely she keeps her eye on him.

So, since Louis’ mum is very alert of everything that goes on in her house and checks on Louis frequently, there’s no way Louis could be smoking weed under her roof.  Which could only mean he’s at Zayn’s house, which is okay.  Harry had told him it was okay, not that it’s even Harry’s place to tell Louis what’s okay and what’s not.  Louis had _asked_ him if it was okay, alright?

One of his teammates tosses him a basketball as they start lining up to practice their free throws, and he tries to let all those worrisome thoughts fade away.

He hopes Zayn isn’t stoned as well, and that he’s supervising Louis as a responsible, sober human being.  Two high people don’t make a right, Harry thinks.  He doesn’t really know how being high works.

When he shoots the ball, his shot has a little too much power behind it, and it hits the backboard with a loud thump before falling to the ground, each bounce echoing throughout the gymnasium.  The entire team groans.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles as he looks down at his feet.

After practice he goes straight over to Louis’, just like he’d promised him earlier.  He’s not even sure if the boy’s home, but Louis knows Harry’s coming over, so it would make sense for him to be home.

His muscles are still fatigued from practice as he drags his sore body up the front steps of Louis’ home.  He doesn’t see his mum’s car in the driveway, so he figures she must be at work.  That means Louis wouldn’t have a reason to go to Zayn’s and smoke weed, right?

He’s proven wrong when he rings the doorbell and Lottie’s the one who opens the door.

Her eyes brighten once she looks up at him.  “Louis’ still out tutoring, but you can come in if you want.”

“Tutoring,” Harry mutters as he moves past Lottie to enter.  “So, what ya up to?”

“Just doing some homework.  Bored as shit,” she replies.

“Language,” Harry says as he throws himself on the couch.

Lottie ignores him as she comes over and sits on one of the arm chairs near Harry.  He ignores her steady eyes on him as he sets his jaw and tries to keep his composure, scratching at his chin.

He’s really sitting in Louis’ house.  Alone.  Because Louis’ at Zayn’s.

Lottie speaks up after a while of staring at him.  “So are you jealous of Zayn?” she asks bluntly.

Harry’s eyebrows knit together as he looks over at her.  “No.  Why would I be?”

Lottie rests her chin on her fist as she leans forward on the couch.  “I could think of a couple reasons.”

Harry shakes his head as he scoffs.  “Well, _I_ can’t.  Louis’ _my_ boyfriend, so I’m perfectly happy.”

Lottie lets out a long sigh as she moves her eyes around the room.  Harry just _knows_ she’s thinking up something ridiculous to say; he can feel it.

“You know, just because you’re one of the hottest guys in school, adored by everyone, and expected to be perfect, it doesn’t mean you have to pretend to be nice about everything,” she explains, and Harry only blushes a little bit at the sneaky compliment.

“I don’t pretend to be nice about everything,” he replies.

“Yes, you do,” Lottie says matter-of-factly.  “You act as though nothing gets to you.  I would hate Zayn’s guts right now, if I were you.”

Harry shakes his head again as he strokes his neck, not even realizing how restless his hands are being.  “No, it’s Louis’ decision.  If he wants to get tutoring from his best bud and get high afterward, who am I to stop him?  I trust him.”

Lottie just rolls her eyes and sucks her teeth before getting up to go upstairs.

“Wait,” Harry says, and he hears her footsteps halt.

“When you say ‘one of the hottest guys in school’, who else is in that category?”

“Zayn.”

“Traitor.”

Lottie giggles before jogging up the stairs to continue doing whatever she was doing before Harry got there, and Harry sits alone, staring blankly at the television as he waits for Louis to come home.

About thirty minutes of nothingness passes before the doorbell is rung, and Harry gets up to go and answer it.  He finds himself standing in front of Zayn and Louis, whose eyes bear a hint of red, just like Harry had expected them to.  He also smells like weed.

“I’m just dropping Louis off,” Zayn says with a smile.

Louis immediately falls into Harry’s arms, tired-like as he rubs his cheek against Harry’s chest.  Harry strokes the boy’s hair as he looks at Zayn.

“Do you guys even tutor anymore?” he asks with the most polite tone he can muster.

Zayn nods his head.  “Yeah.  It’s just that we always have some free time afterwards.  He saw the bong in my room, and it was kinda his idea.  I usually do it alone.”

Harry nods his head in understanding as he continues to pet Louis’ hair.

Zayn smiles lopsidedly as he looks at Louis in Harry’s arms.  “He really loves it.”

“I’m sure he does,” Harry replies, offering Zayn a polite grin.

Louis pulls back from Harry’s chest and turns around to offer Zayn his hand.  Zayn accepts it in some sort of high-five, joining of hands moment that they both giggle at, and Harry just watches with a neutral face expression.

“Bye, Zayn,” Louis laughs.

Zayn opens his mouth to reply, but Harry doesn’t wait around for it as he cups Louis’ chin and brings him in for a deep, thorough kiss.  Louis grips Harry’s forearms, sinking into it easily, just as he always does.

When Harry turns back to Zayn, the lightheaded, happy expression he was previously wearing has disappeared, and he looks down at his feet.

“Bye, Louis,” he says, before turning around and starting towards his car.

Harry lets Louis inside as he shuts the front door and locks it.  By the time he turns around, eager to properly snog the boy, Louis’ already in the kitchen, rummaging through the snacks in the pantry.  A little grin tugs at Harry’s lips as he watches Louis pull a large bag of chips out of the closet and a 2 liter bottle of soda from the fridge.  Harry’s convinced it’s impossible for Louis to not appear majestic while doing something.

Harry walks over to the kitchen counter and rests his elbows on top of it as he watches his boy move around the room.

“You know,” Louis starts, pulling the cheese dip out of the fridge.

“I don’t know,” Harry replies, followed by a giggle.

“Water should be free, shouldn’t it?” Louis asks as he rips open the bag of chips with his teeth.  His mouth is stuffed with nacho covered chips when he opens his mouth to speak again.  “We need water to survive, so why do we have to pay for it?”

“You don’t have to, really,” Harry replies, walking over to stand by Louis.  “You can always just go to the nearest lake with a bucket.”

Louis laughs as he looks at Harry, tiny pieces of food falling out of his mouth.  “The lake has fish piss in it.  I want free, filtered, clean water.”

“Then you’re gonna have to pay, babe,” Harry says as he grabs some chips out of the bag and puts them in his mouth.

A great deal of time is spent listening to Louis’ ideas, Harry indulging him in any way he can.  Harry seriously loves this, seeing Louis all thoughtful and starry eyed.  High or not, Louis is truly a work of art, and Harry loves him in every way one person can love another.

Harry giggles when Louis accidentally flicks cheese dip onto his cheek and proceeds to lick it off.

“Yum,” Louis chuckles, his breath tickling Harry’s face.

Harry reaches out and ruffles his fluffy air, pulling him in close.  “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You could do me,” Louis suggests, burying his face in Harry’s neck.

He caresses Louis’ back as the boy breathes him in, and he really, _really,_ can’t wait to live with him once they go to uni together.  He can’t believe he’s going to get to see Louis as soon as he gets back from classes, right before he goes to sleep, and right when he wakes up.  He wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

He ends up wiping the crumbs of food off of Louis’ face before they go over to the living room and lay on the couch, pressed up against one another.  Louis shivers slightly in Harry’s arms as he presses his lips against Harry’s chest through his shirt.

“Are you cold?  Do you want me to get a blanket?” Harry asks.

Louis nods with his eyes closed, and Harry knows he’s seconds away from falling asleep.

Harry slowly detaches himself from Louis to retrieve a blanket from one of their storage closets.  He can only find a small one though, but he figures it’ll do for now.  He joins him back on the couch, making gentle movements in order to get back to the comfortable position they were in.  Louis hums in satisfaction as he snuggles close into Harry’s chest, grasping at the material of his shirt.  Harry curves his arms around Louis’ waist, holding him close.

“I love you,” Louis whispers against his clothing, before pulling at his t-shirt with his teeth.

Harry laughs softly as he pulls Louis in.  “I love you too.”

“I love you more than wolves love the moon,” Louis says.

Harry’s right dimple pops out as he lifts his hand to card through Louis’ hair.  “I love you more than bumblebees love pollen.”

Louis’ soft and airy laugh vibrates against Harry’s chest.  “I love you…I love you more than any comparison you could ever make.”

“Well, I don’t know how to top that,” Harry says.

“Mhmm,” Louis replies, his breaths starting to go heavy.

Harry strokes his back as Louis falls asleep, and once the boy is completely still, he reaches over for the remote in order to turn off the television.

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep to the sound of Louis breathing.

He doesn’t open his eyes again until he feels something soft being laid on top of the both of them. It’s now pitch black in the living room, and all Harry can see is the dark figure of Louis’ mum laying a larger blanket on top of them and taking the smaller one in her arms.

“Sorry,” she whispers as she smoothes out the blanket over them.  “Didn’t want to wake you.  Just thought you needed a bigger blanket.”

Harry shakes his head with tired eyes.  “It’s fine.  Thank you.”

She clasps her hands together as she looks at them, like she’s witnessing a married couple say their vows.

“So, Harry.  How are you?” she asks, beaming down at him.  “Haven’t properly spoken to you in a while.”

They both keep their voices at a minimum as Louis continues to sleep in Harry’s arms.

“I’ve been busy with basketball and other things,” Harry explains.  “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t apologize, honey.  You and Louis—everything’s fine, right?” she asks, her tone full of hope.

Harry has always admired how concerned Louis’ mum has been for their relationship.  Probably the most important thing to her is her children’s happiness.  When they had gotten a considerable amount of backlash when they were just starting out as a couple, his mother was always there, stroking Louis’ crying face and driving to the school to tell off the staff about the bullying going on right under their noses.  Louis found it a bit embarrassing, but Harry was overly thankful of the sole fact that she was there for him, and didn’t turn away in shame.

“Yeah.  We’re fine,” Harry says, rubbing circles into Louis’ back.

She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Harry’s head, causing him to smile when she pulls back and brushes his hair out of his face.

“That’s good.  You can go back to sleep, now,” she whispers.  “Sorry for waking you.  Goodnight.”

She shuffles her feet down the hall in order to get to her own room, and Harry lies there, staring into darkness for a while.  He’s not sure if he can go back to sleep anytime soon.

Louis stirs in his arms a bit, letting out a yawn.  Harry stays as still as possible in order to not wake him, but the boy moves around too much and ends up letting out a frustrated moan.

Harry strokes his knuckles against Louis’ cheek as he shushes him.  “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“I can’t now,” Louis says quietly.

Harry sighs as he lays there with Louis, staying silent so that he can fall back asleep.  A few minutes pass before Louis speaks again.

“I’d always dreamed of doing this with you,” Louis says after a while.

Harry shifts a little, furrowing his eyebrows.  “What do you mean?”

“Since we were freshmen,” Louis says, inching his face a little closer to Harry’s neck.  “I always…looked at you from afar.  I dreamt about snuggling up against your chest, just like this.  I was sure it would never happen.”

“You fantasized about cuddling me?” Harry asks, stroking his hand up and down Louis’ arm.  That’s a pretty mellow fantasy, he thinks.

“Well, also holding your hand, kissing you on the cheek, taking you down until you hit the back of my throat,” Louis says, followed by a short chuckle.

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up as he laughs too.

“And what I wanted is actually happening right now,” Louis continues, bunching his fist in the material of Harry’s shirt.  A few beats pass before he speaks again.

“Thank you, Harry,” he barely whispers, his words merely breaths.  “Thank you for reaching out and giving me that push to be confident about who I am.  If I never met you, I’d probably still be in the closet right now.”

Harry buries his mouth in Louis’ hair as he mumbles, “Me too”.

“Life gives us just what we need, doesn’t it?” Louis asks.

Harry nods, pulling Louis in closer, because somehow no matter how close they get, it’s not enough.

He hugs Louis tight once he hears the boy start to sniffle.  Harry always knows when he’s about to cry, because he starts turning his face away and shielding himself.

Louis ducks his head further into Harry’s chest, even as Harry tries to pull back in order to wipe at his tears.

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry whispers into his hair.

“I’m just so thankful for you.  I was scared of my mum—my own _mum_ —turning against me, and you made me face that fear.  Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Harry replies, his voice weak as he holds Louis.

He remembers Louis holding his hand when they were in his mum’s car.  Harry had been trying his best not to cry after his friend Caleb had completely turned on him after finding out he was dating Louis.  That was his best friend of about five years, and for him to have shrug Harry off like they’d never even known each other before, it stung.  Badly.

He was in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead and seriously questioning if this was all worth it.  Louis was holding his hand and tearing up, begging Harry to look at him, but Harry kept looking straight ahead.  He kept asking himself if it was worth it; having everyone think he was disgusting just so he could date one boy.

One look at Louis brought him to the conclusion that it _was_ worth it, and very much so.

He fought through it, and he had Louis by his side throughout all of his doubts, so he would be forever thankful for the boy because of that.

“Thank you so much,” Harry says again, holding his boy tight.

 

{L}

Louis drags his pencil across the notebook paper as he glances back and forth between his textbook and his calculator.  He only has two more problems left, and so far, the problems he’s done have been a breeze.  He can’t remember a time when math was this easy for him.

He’s sitting on Zayn’s bed, his legs crossed underneath him, and he’s genuinely doing _homework_ while Zayn is lying on the ground, reading one of his poetry books.

“Done,” Louis declares excitedly as he finishes jotting down the answer to the last problem.

Zayn’s head turns towards him, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose.  “Really?  That was kinda fast.”

Louis shrugs as he grins at Zayn.  “It’s just getting that much easier.”

Zayn smirks as he gets up from where he is on the floor, before walking over and plopping down next to Louis on the bed.

He takes Louis’ notebook from him and sets it in his lap, scanning his eyes over the problems and checking for any errors.  Louis isn’t a stranger to how fucking _thorough_ Zayn is—if there’s even one mistake, like a missing zero or a decimal out of place, Zayn will find it.

Zayn finally looks up at Louis, closing the notebook in his hands.  “Looks good.  You’re really improving.”

Louis grins, both at Zayn and at himself, for finally being the nerd his mother always wanted him to be.  “That’s because you’re a miracle worker,” Louis says, reaching out to pinch Zayn’s arm.

Zayn looks down at his chest bashfully.  “No, you had it in you, Louis.  I just had to get you to tap into that part of yourself.”

Often, Louis excuses Zayn’s ridiculous sounding proverbs and phrases by laughing at them, but that’s only because he doesn’t want to admit how he’s truly moved by Zayn sometimes.  He has this different way with words that Louis’ never witnessed from anyone before, and it’s like every time Zayn talks, he just wants more.

Zayn’s eyes flutter back up to meet Louis’, and he gives him a warm smile, his eyes soft and easy like they always are.

Louis lets out a happy sigh before averting his attention to his surroundings.

“So, where’s the bong?  I’m stressed,” Louis says, and he’s already up before Zayn can reply.  He finds it tucked in the corner next to Zayn’s bed, where his mother can never see it if she peeks her head into the room.

Zayn laughs as he takes the bong from Louis.  “We can’t get high anymore.”

Louis’ face twists in confusion as Zayn easily puts the bong back, before slumping in one of his chairs.

“Why not?” Louis asks, sitting back down on the bed.

“Because Harry beat my ass, and as I was spitting out blood—you know, after having gotten my ass beat—he said that if I ever got high with you again, he’d murder me,” Zayn explains, a grin on his face as he tells the whole story.

Louis rolls his eyes, annoyed by Zayn’s obviously fake story.  He can’t help but laugh though, when Zayn won’t stop wearing that stupid grin.

“I know that’s not true, Zayn,” Louis says, brushing his hands across Zayn’s duvet.

Zayn scratches at his head.  “Well, it was a bit of an exaggeration, but yeah, something like that went down.”

Louis groans as he pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.  He has Harry’s jacket on, and he’s basically been swimming in it all day, so the jacket looks like it’s surrounding his body and legs like a tent.

“What happened?” Louis asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, he came by my locker and said something about it,” Zayn says.  “That’s all I’m going to say.”

Louis purses his lips as he stares at Zayn from across the room.  “Why would he do that?”

“Because he hates me.”

Louis throws himself backwards on the bed, sprawling his arms out in frustration.  “Would you stop saying that?  Harry doesn’t hate you.  Harry doesn’t hate _anyone_.”

“Sure.”

 

~*~

 

Louis doesn’t realize he’s vigorously tapping his pencil against the top of the desk until he hears Harry snicker beside him, eyes glancing down at the movement as his dimples deepen.  Louis lets one corner of his lips tilt up as he grins back at Harry, halting his impatient hand movements.

Louis tunes his ears back into what his english teacher is explaining on the white board and forces himself to pay attention.  He can’t help that he gets impatient and bored in pretty much all of his classes, and since this is the only class he has with Harry, the restlessness grows by ninety percent.

It’s especially hard to keep his hands to himself in this class, so he’s rather proud of the fact that Mr. Fages has only ever gotten onto them once for public displays of affection, that one time Harry was clingy and couldn’t stop cuddling Louis in the back of the class.  Louis’ face had gone red when Mr. Fages had pointed them out and the whole class turned around, and Harry had just sat there, smug and grinning.

Louis’ pulled out of his reminiscent state when he feels Harry’s foot hook around his under the table, causing a calming warmth to spread from the tip of his toe all the way up to the pads of his fingers.  He scoots his chair just a little closer to Harry’s—not _too_ noticeably, but just enough—and he lets his body ease into something a little less restless as he touches ankles with Harry under the table and concentrates on the lecture.

It’s become a lot easier to listen to the lectures in class, especially since he understands the material now, thanks to Zayn and his god-like tutoring skills.  It’s almost like he’s more eager to learn, if that doesn’t sound absolutely absurd.  He enjoys exploring how different solutions and concepts connect to others, and understanding what’s being taught, and actually making good marks.  He never thought he’d live to enjoy anything like this, but here he is.

Having Zayn tutor him hasn’t _only_ been about studies, however.  Over the past few weeks, he’s gotten to know more about Zayn than he’d ever even imagined.  He thought he was close enough with Zayn, keeping in mind that the boy is a pretty reserved person, but he didn’t think that there would be more of himself that Zayn would allow him to unlock.  They’ve shared way too many deep conversations while as high as a kite, and now Louis knows about how Zayn believes we’re living in one of many parallel universes, and that sometimes he explores the other ones while asleep, in his dreams.  It’s weird, obviously weird, but it’s also so _Zayn_ , the Zayn that nobody else knows or gets to appreciate the way Louis does.  It’s special.  He hopes that he and Zayn are this close in every single universe.

Louis shakes his head once the bell rings, pulling himself out of his thoughts as he moves to shove his textbooks into his backpack and the rest of the class files out.

Harry slides the straps of his bag over his shoulders as he glides over behind Louis, wrapping an arm around his torso.  Louis blushes before turning around in Harry’s arms, cupping his chin between two dainty fingers.  Everyone is standing up and moving around, so it’s impossible for Mr. Fages to see them from the front of the class where he’s sitting at his desk.

Harry dips his head down slowly and brushes his lips over Louis’ cheeks, barely touching the skin and, on natural instinct, causing Louis to inch in closer.

“So I’ll see you at lunch?” Louis asks as Harry’s fingers grab at the material of his shirt along the back of his waist.

Harry pulls his head back to look at Louis, and by the hint of despair that’s neatly placed behind his eyes, Louis already knows the answer to his question.

“We have a team meeting during lunch,” Harry answers, his voice low and soft.  His eyes don’t escape Louis’ once, even as Louis looks down at some place on Harry’s chest.

He really wanted to spend lunch with Harry today.  It’s been so long (approximately a week) since they’ve had a free day to themselves, free of interruptions or any obligations that Harry would have to momentarily leave Louis for.

It’s not like it’s Harry’s fault he has to discuss whatever it is basketball people discuss with his team.  It’s not Harry’s fault so many people want him around, and need him for many different things.  It’s not Harry’s fault that he’s just _that_ appealing.

Harry nudges Louis’ face up with his nose, succeeding in making him less glum and coaxing a giggle out from between his lips.

Harry lifts a hand up to caress Louis’ face, stroking a thumb at his cheek just under the shadow of his eyelashes.  “Hey…I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

Louis scoffs.  “What time are you going to use to do your homework, then?” he asks, before quickly shaking his head.  “You don’t have to—“

“Fuck it.  Talking to you is more important,” Harry interrupts, taking Louis’ face in both hands as the boy looks up at him.  He stares into his eyes, focusing on nothing else as Louis struggles not to melt like putty in his arms.  Harry has always been good at casting some unknown hypnotic spell on Louis.

 

~*~

 

Louis gets home a little after six, his mind up in the clouds as he waltzes over to his front door.  Just as expected, Lottie opens the door before he can even twist the doorknob, and she looks behind her in a sneaky, rushed fashion before gesturing for Louis to come in.

“Louis,” Lottie says sternly.  “Mum’s in the living room.”

“Lottie,” Louis replies, looking his sister in the eye as he places an unsteady hand on her shoulder.  “I’m not _that_ high, okay?  I can act cool.”

“If she gets even one look at you, she’s gonna know,” Lottie says with a scoff, before shoving Louis toward the stairs rather quickly.  “Fucking go to your room.  You reek of it.”

Louis giggles as he takes slow, determined steps up the stairs.  He drags his eyes down and watches his feet hit step after step, taking him higher towards the end of the tunnel that is the hallway upstairs.  He wonders if this is what it’s like when you die and go to heaven.  He feels like he’s close to heaven; as though these actual steps could be the ones that are leading him straight into the afterlife.  He wonders if there are actually going to be clouds there, and if there are, he can’t help but think about whether he’d be able to feel them, or if they’d have no texture at all.

“I’m sick of covering for you,” he hears Lottie mutter from where she is at the bottom of the stairs.  Louis turns around to find her standing with her arms crossed as she taps her foot and glares up at Louis.  She viciously gestures for him to continue his journey.  “Go!”

Louis just shakes his head at her with a dumb grin plastered across his face as he jogs up the last few steps , before venturing towards his bedroom.  Upon opening the door, he makes a beeline for the area under his bed, because he’d kindly asked Lottie if she could prepare a stash of snacks for Louis to put under there for when he got home.  Despite Lottie’s clearly irritated stance on it all, sure enough, there are dozens of snack items from the pantry stuffed under his bed; bags of chips, Twizzlers, donut holes.  Louis’ eyes widen with hunger as he proceeds to grab the first bag and rip it open.

He wastes most of his evening away, stuffing his face and contemplating the meaning of life.  He honestly didn’t think he would be _this_ hungry when he got home, considering he and Zayn ate two entire pizzas before he left.

Once the high starts to fade after about another hour or two, Louis’ mind becomes rational again, and he realizes he indeed has a lot of school work to do for the next day.  He’s still in a dazed state, which means it takes a lot longer to finish just one math problem.  He sighs through it all and tries to suppress the yawns that are trying so hard to escape his mouth.

It’s just reaching eleven-thirty when Louis is starting to dose off after reading way too many head-pounding pages of _Macbeth_.  He settles his head into the book in front of him, forgetting that it isn’t a pillow and that he _isn’t_ actually done with all of his assigned reading.  Sleep is calling him, however, tugging on his eyelids and forcing his body to relax against the sheets.  He’s fucking exhausted.

He tries to keep his eyes open as best he can—not because of the stupid book he’s supposed to be reading, but because Harry said that he would call Louis, and Louis wanted to be awake to answer the call.  A late night, deep, gush-filled conversation with Harry is all Louis needs right now, because he feels as though he’s been deprived for far too long.  He needs to lay in the darkness and tell Harry how much he loves him, and then hear it back in Harry’s deep, naturally poetic voice.  He needs to fall asleep to the sound of Harry breathing, because the boy always passes out before him.  It’s adorable how he stays on the phone and never complains about being tired; just eventually gets knocked out and leaves Louis smiling on the other line.

Another thirty minutes pass, and Louis still doesn’t get a call.

Louis doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he obviously did, because he’s woken up when his phone rings, painfully loud where it’s laid next to his ear.  Louis jerks his head up and scratches behind his ear, letting out a moan as he checks his phone screen.  Harry.

It’s also nearly one in the morning.

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing Harry says once Louis presses the answer button.  “I tried making time to call earlier.”

“It’s, uh,” Louis starts, his eyes half closed as he scratches at his hip.  He’s already almost asleep again; he can’t do this right now.  “It’s fine, Harry.  I’m just really tired.  We can do this another time, okay?”

He hears nothing but a faint breath from Harry as his phone almost slips out of his hand.   There’s a bit more silence before Harry speaks again.

“Okay.  Goodnight,” Harry replies, his voice soft.  “I love you, babe.  So much.”

“I love you too,” Louis says, although it’s pretty inaudible from the way he mumbles and proceeds to yawn.   “I love you for trying.”

Once he ends the call, suddenly, the tired feeling isn’t as strong as it was literally just seconds before.  It’s replaced with something else—something more depressing and heavy.  Louis tosses his phone to the side and buries his face in his arms, shielding himself from the outside world and encompassing his sights in darkness.  If a single tear escapes, he’s just glad no one will ever know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> juicy dramaaa [insert frog & tea emoji]

 

 {Z}

Zayn watches his feet as they move, one in front of the other, striding slowly across the tile floor of the school’s large hallway.  He knows it’s noisy, and he knows it’s crowded, but he has his headphones in, so he’s successfully managed to escape all the ruckus.  He kind of likes it like this; knowing his surroundings are chaotic, but not _really_ getting to experience it because his earphones are flooding the air with nothing but melodic piano tunes.

When he finally decides to lift his head up, he realizes that he did it just in time, because Louis is walking up to him, a sheet of paper in his hand as he looks at Zayn with happy, bright eyes.  Zayn immediately pulls his ear buds out, rolling them up as he gives Louis the same look back, even though he has no idea what he’s supposed to be excited about.

“An A!” Louis exclaims, practically bouncing off of his feet as he holds the paper up to Zayn and points at it with a stern finger.  “In math, Zayn.  I aced a _freaking_ math test.”

“That’s my boy,” Zayn replies, holding up a hand for Louis to slap.  Louis pulls him into an unexpected hug once they join hands, taking Zayn by surprise and filling his entire body with a pleasant coziness.

“I guess you won’t need my help anymore?” Zayn asks, continuing his stride toward his locker as Louis walks alongside him.

“Are you kidding?  My grades will fall into a downward slope if you stop tutoring me,” Louis replies, his tone offended.

Zayn stops at his locker, his eyes concentrated as he works the combination.  “Well,” he starts, opening up his locker and proceeding to shove books inside.  “I think Harry would like if we stopped.”

Zayn gets pulled away from his task of taking two pencils off of the holder in his locker when Louis grabs him by both shoulders, forcing the boy to face him, and proceeding shaking him like crazy.

“Would you stop?” Louis asks, his eyebrows furrowed.  Zayn stares at him for a moment, before giggling with amusement.

“Stop what?” Zayn asks, turning back to continue what he was doing.  “You really don’t think Harry’s at all bugged by this?”

Louis’ silent for long enough that Zayn pauses completely, turning so he can face Louis and try to register his facial expression and maybe decipher an answer from it.

Louis finally shrugs his shoulders as he picks at the fabric on his jeans.  “No.  I really don’t.”

 

~*~

 

“You understand this, Louis,” Zayn says with a laugh, tucking his feet under his body as he shifts on the bed.  “You don’t need tutoring.”

Louis leans back where he is next to Zayn, putting his weight on the palms of his hands.  “I need you to make sure I continue to understand it.  Isn’t that what tutors are for?”

“You should really start paying him for this, actually,” Waliyha says from where she’s laid across the rug of Zayn’s room.  She strokes a hand through her ponytail as she laughs into the other.  “Zayn will finally have a job.  Mum will be proud.”

Louis glances at Zayn, an amused smile on his face as Zayn rolls his eyes.  “I’m willing to pay, honestly.”

Zayn shakes his head shyly as he shifts on the bed.  “I’m not going to charge you.  You’re—no.  We’re too close.”

“What does that mean?”

Zayn laughs a short, hesitant chuckle as he glances between Waliyha and Louis.  Waliyha had seriously been challenging him all evening, and he’s getting quite sick of it.

“We’re.  We’re friends, right?” Zayn asks, punching Louis in the arm with the casual air of a robot who doesn’t understand human interaction.  He doesn’t know why it’s so hard for him to admit Louis is his friend out loud.  It used to be easier, he remembers.

“Friends?” Louis asks, his eyes studying Zayn’s every movement.  Zayn has no idea what the question means, and he’s sure Louis didn’t intend to make it so open to possibility and interpretation.

His mind is genuinely pondering upon the possibility that maybe he’s an ant, and someone is shining a magnifying glass on him, burning his insides to shreds and leaving him exposed.  The pressure is more than he can handle at the moment.

Waliyha points at Zayn, her eyes gleaming with excitement.  “Look at his _face_!  He’s all flustered.  This is so fun to watch.”

Louis lets out a sigh as Zayn gives his sister a stern look, implicitly telling her to shut up, but as usual, she doesn’t budge even one bit.  Sometimes he yearns to be the more intimidating type.

“We’re best friends,” Zayn finally says, the words unusually bitter in his mouth.  “I don’t charge best friends for anything.”

There’s a short beat before Louis wraps an arm around Zayn’s shoulder and pulls him in, nuzzling him obnoxiously.  “Aw, look at him!  He said I’m his _best friend_.  How cute.”

“Very cute,” Waliyha replies, nodding while her chin rests in her arms.

Zayn’s going to explode with a frustration he can’t even pinpoint.  The knowing way his sister keeps looking at them, increased every  time Zayn has fumbled over his words or looked down at his lap when Louis has held his gaze too long, is driving him nuts.  He hasn’t always been fond of how intuitive Waliyha has always been.  She’s usually one to pick out Zayn’s emotions before he even feels them himself.

Zayn playfully shoves Louis away from him with some difficulty, before reaching over for an actual textbook, just to give a proper excuse.

“Okay, Waliyha, we have to do some actual _work_ , so I would appreciate it if you would occupy yourself in some other area of the house,” Zayn says properly, offering her a kind grin at the end.

Waliyha remains in the exact same position, unmoving.  “Watching you guys interact is way too much fun.”

“We’re not entertainment for you,” Zayn replies, still keeping his tone nice and easy.

There’s a long pause after Zayn speaks, both Louis and Zayn not knowing what for as Waliyha’s eyes start to gradually widen.

“Wait,” Waliyha says slowly, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she exchanges glances between the two of them.  Zayn can already feel something really shitty coming on.  He doesn’t know what it is, but he knows his sister’s just realized something no one else has realized yet.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, he figures.

“If you don’t get out, I _guarantee_ you I’ll tell mum all about the festive _study group_ weekend you had—“

Waliyha is already on her feet, flashing dangerous, warning eyes at Zayn.  “Don’t you dare,” she hisses, her voice threatening.  She shrugs her shoulders and lets out a defeated sigh, leaving Zayn more than content.  “Fine, I’ll leave.”

With that, she finally leaves Zayn alone with Louis, the way the universe intended, and Zayn is left with a grin on his face and the sight of Louis in front of him, laughing lightly to himself.

“I love her,” Louis says, picking lint off of the socks on his feet.  “I’d trade Lottie for her.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Zayn asks, pushing himself off the bed so he can set his textbook on his desk.  He wasn’t _really_ going to start tutoring; he just needed Waliyha and her prying eyes out of the room.

“So, are we gonna—“

Zayn’s already shaking his head as he makes his way back over to Louis, sitting down on the bed next to him, just a little closer than before.  Louis’ face sinks and Zayn hates that, but he really can’t get high with Louis anymore.  Harry didn’t explicitly ask him to stop, but he made it clear that he’s not at all in favor of it, and Zayn is more than tired of giving Harry more reasons to hate him.

“You’re obsessed,” Zayn says, leaning over and pinching Louis softly in his side.   The boy squirms with a chuckle before swatting Zayn’s hands away.  His fluffiness deflates once again however, and it becomes clear to Zayn that it’s not _just_ about smoking weed.

“It just…really relieves my stress,” Louis replies, now looking down at his fingers as he furrows his eyebrows.  “I’ve been stressed about a lot of things lately.  I want to escape my stress.  Pretend it’s not there.”

Zayn shakes his head slowly as he studies the side of Louis’ face.  The boy seriously has one of the most artistic profiles Zayn has ever seen, but he’ll save the flattery for another time, when things aren’t so…annoying.

“There are other ways to relieve stress, Lou,” Zayn says, setting one gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “I don’t want you to get into a habit.”

The boy’s blue eyes looks straight ahead as he starts messing around with his fingers, clearly a bit insecure and unsure of how to handle whatever he’s feeling.  Although Zayn doesn’t know the specifics of what Louis’ so sad and stressed about, he’s pretty sure he has an idea.  He scowls for probably half a second before wiping it off his face.

“What’s bothering you?” Zayn asks, concern in his features as he leans in closer to Louis.

Louis shifts his head down to look at his restless fingers.  He shakes his head, as though his worries are trivial.  “It’s just—me and Harry haven’t gotten a lot of time to hang out lately.  He’s always busy…it’s nothing, though.  There are other things I’m stressed about, but…” his voice lowers.  “…that’s one.”

The beautiful curves and gloriously defined cheekbones of the side of Louis’ face only make the fact that he’s so down cause pain in Zayn’s chest.  It’s rare to ever catch Louis at moments like these; where he’s almost one hundred percent vulnerable and his mouth starts allowing him to be free and say what’s on his mind.  A person like Louis, who infects people with happiness whenever he comes near, whose smile could bring flowers back to life, doesn’t deserve to have moments like these.

He knows Louis absolutely despises it too—appearing weak and frail.  He’s probably the toughest person Zayn knows, and that’s because it’s the way he always portrays himself.  He doesn’t want anyone to think of him as helplessly small, and he remains closed off in order to get that point across.

Zayn holds his hand out towards Louis, palm up.  Louis glances down at it, his eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

Zayn giggles.  “Give me your hand.”

Louis’ lips curve into a lopsided grin as he slowly lifts his wrist and places the back of his hand on top of Zayn’s.  His hand is a bit cold, which contrasts with Zayn’s warm one, but somehow it still works, and Zayn wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, his palm to dorsum with Louis for no reason at all.

He shifts his focus to what he had originally intended to do, instead of daydreaming about things that won’t happen.

Zayn lifts his hand that isn’t under Louis’, and brings his index finger and thumb to the boy’s palm, drawing circles in it.  He lets his eyes flutter shut, and tries not to smirk at the sound of Louis starting to laugh.

“What are you doing?” he asks through short chuckles.

Zayn shushes him as he continues tracing over the boy’s calluses.  “I’m reading your palm.”  He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that Louis’ giving him a look that shows how ridiculous he thinks he is.  Zayn isn’t bothered by it; he knows Louis loves him.

“So you’re a nerd, a genie, _and_ a palm reader?” Louis asks incredulously.  “What else do I not know about you, Zayn?”

Zayn giggles, letting one eye open to peek at Louis, getting a brief view of his now smiling face.  He shuts it before speaking again.  “A lot of things.”

Louis lets out a dramatic sigh.  “Guess I’ll spend the next hundred years figuring you out.”  Zayn’s face scrunches up as he holds back a grin.  “Now, tell me what my palm is saying, or whatever.”

Zayn slowly opens his eyes, scooting in just an inch closer to Louis.  Louis doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to create more area between them.

“Your palm says,” Zayn starts, making his words come out low and tender.  “In the near future, you won’t be stressed anymore.  That you deserve to be happy, and that very soon you’ll figure out how to be exactly that.”  Zayn hadn’t even realized he wasn’t tracing Louis’ palm anymore, his hand now lazily resting on top of the boy’s palm.  “Because seeing you sad is like waking up to cloudy, dark day, Louis.  You brighten everything.”

Zayn isn’t really one to make too many social faux paus, because he’s not even social enough to begin with, but _God_ , he really hadn’t realized how sappy and over the top that sounded until he already said it.  Internally, he goes into panic mode as Louis stares at him, the blue of his eyes seeping into Zayn’s sockets, freezing his entire body from head to toe.  He really wishes his brain had assessed the outcomes and possibilities of how things would go after Zayn says such a flattering array of words.  He hopes Louis isn’t too thrown off.

After a few more seconds of Louis staring at Zayn, motionless and bearing no distinct facial expression, his mouth opens, and out comes a gentle breath, as though he had thought to say something and then ended up speechless.

All Zayn can think about is how effortlessly breathtaking he is.

The thought causes Zayn to grin a little wider, his head tilting ever so slightly as he holds Louis’ gaze.  Everything in the moment is so soft, sweet, _real…_

“Thank you,” Louis finally says, nearly whispering.  “I better get going, though.  My mum’s probably looking for me.”

The stupid grin is wiped off of Zayn’s face, and he slowly releases Louis’ hands, shrugging his shoulders as though they were having a casual moment.  “It _is_ late, yeah.”

Louis breathes heavily as he packs his stuff into his bag and swings it up onto his shoulder.  “Yeah.”

Zayn watches as Louis moves toward the bedroom door, shooting Zayn a bashful grin in the process.

“Bye, Lou,” Zayn says, receiving a “Bye, Z,” in response.

Zayn remains in the same position on his bed as he hears Louis’ feet shuffle down the stairs, and then he listens to the sound of the front door to his house opening and closing.  He rises to his feet to walk over to his window, reaching it just in time to admire Louis as he opens the door to his car.  Zayn doesn’t even realize how wide he’s grinning as he watches the boy struggle a bit to get his heavy bag into the passenger seat.  The boy is beautifully elegant in everything he does, and he doesn’t even have to try.

It’s then, as Zayn fantasizes about telling Louis how absolutely stunning he is, how their tutoring sessions are the favorite part of his day, how he deserves so much more than a boyfriend who refuses to put him before all else, that Zayn realizes quieting his emotions won’t do him any good.  He has to be fully honest with himself on why he doesn’t like Harry, why he’s so obsessed with spending time with Louis, why he’s always so concerned about the boy’s well-being.

Zayn is completely gone for that boy, and he knows it.  He feels like he’s known it for a while.

He bites down on the corner of his bottom lip with his teeth as he continues to admire Louis, who is now in the driver’s seat, texting away on his phone.  The knowledge that he’s most likely texting Harry sends a faint, weighing feeling through Zayn’s chest, down to his stomach where it continues to remain for a few moments.  He finally pulls his eyes away from the window, wistfully throwing himself on his bed and attempting to figure out how he’s going to go about all this.

 

~*~

 

Zayn uses his index finger to push his glasses up on his nose as he narrows his eyes to scan the many different spines of books displayed in the aisles.  He’s looking for a specific version of _Oedipus Rex_ for an analysis he’s supposed to be doing for his English class, and it’s taken him a lot longer than he had originally planned.

It isn’t the _worst_ thing in the world anyway, because the library is the one place in school where it’s guaranteed to be quiet—the librarian can actually kick someone out if they don’t whisper, so this is obviously Zayn’s kind of place.

He runs his fingers over the different spines as his feet makes slow steps from one end of the aisle to the other.  All he can hear are the faint sounds of textbook pages flipping, momentarily sniffles from someone who obviously needs a tissue, and a few hushed whispers.

Zayn only turns his head slightly away from the rows of books, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.  He sees Harry in the distance, stood at the front desk, seemingly trying to make a book return.  He thanks his lucky stars that the boy doesn’t see him as he waltzes over to the next aisle—the more _hidden_ aisle.

He can’t exactly pinpoint why he’s avoiding Harry, but something inside of him is telling him he has to.  After discovering this deep, hidden longing that he has for Louis, he feels like coming in contact with Harry would just be wrong.  He _feels_ wrong, in a sense, because he hasn’t told anybody, and he’s continued to joke and have fun with Louis, while he knows inside that he wants _more_.

It’s just when Zayn is getting too lost in his thoughts, unable to concentrate on anything else but his own personal dilemmas, that he feels a hand tap on his right shoulder.

He turns his head towards the right, and finds his own brown eyes immediately met with soft green ones.

“Hey,” Harry says as he pulls one of the books out of the rows and flips it open to examine it.

“Hi,” Zayn replies.  His words are hesitant as he speaks, using all of his strength to prevent his vowels from trembling.  “Looking for _Oedipus Rex_ too, I’m guessing?”

Harry looks up at him, his dimples deepening as he grins.  “Yep.  English sucks, doesn’t it?”

Zayn lets out a forced, half second chuckle.  “Yeah,” he agrees as he slowly lets his feet back away.

“Listen,” Harry starts, taking a step forward as he places the book back on the shelf.

Zayn pauses his backward strides, instead gluing his feet to the ground and shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats.  “Hmm?”

“Thanks for helping Louis, and stuff,” Harry says, scratching behind his head.  It’s obvious to Zayn that it’s taken everything out of this boy to give Zayn a simple “thank you”.  “He really appreciates it… _I_ really appreciate it.  He’s improving a lot in his classes, so…” he continues, holding two awkward thumbs up.

Zayn lifts one hand to stroke at his other arm.  “No problem.”

Harry lets out a sigh, and even though Zayn’s unnecessarily skilled at interpreting sighs, he can’t indicate whether this one is good or bad.  Harry’s lips remain pressed together, his dimples out, as though he’s thinking of saying something, but is keeping himself from saying it.

Zayn tips his head forward in a cordial goodbye nod, before starting to back away again so that he can part ways with Harry.  Before he can turn the aisle, however, Harry calls for him again.

Zayn approaches the boy once more at the call of his name, one of his eyebrows quirked up in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“You…you remember our understanding, right?” Harry asks, gesturing between the both of them.  “About Lo—“

“Yeah,” Zayn replies, his voice suddenly weak as he rocks on the heels of his feet.

There’s a beat of silence, where nobody is saying anything and Zayn is continuously rocking on his feet, unable to stand perfectly still anymore.  Harry finally reaches out a hand to give a friendly pat to Zayn’s shoulder.

“Great,” he says with a smile, a smile that Zayn knows is filled with nothing but fakery.  Harry turns around to leave, and he’s almost halfway down the aisle when Zayn builds up the courage to actually speak.

“You know,” Zayn starts, taking a step forward.  His voice is so soft and uncertain that he’s not quite sure how Harry heard it, but he does, and he turns around to listen to the sentence Zayn’s already started.

“I don’t blame you for worrying about me and Louis,” Zayn continues, his steps toward Harry continuing.  “You should be worried.”

Harry’s lips part open just a bit as he stares at Zayn, which is fitting, because Zayn’s probably just as surprised with himself as Harry is surprised with him.  The look of slight bafflement is soon replaced with something that resembles a slow build of anger, of _possession_ —and that’s the problem.  Zayn feels that Harry thinks of Louis as nothing but property, which he is _not_.

Zayn tilts his chin up with confidence before he continues speaking.  “I could treat him better, and you know it.  He’s craving love and attention from someone who genuinely cares about him, and I can give him that, easily.  Since it’s not something you’ve been doing lately, with basketball being top priority and all.”

Harry crosses his arms, taking a challenging step forward and setting his jaw tight.   
If Zayn doesn’t know any better, he would think Harry was going to take him down right here and now, but he doesn’t care.  _That’s_ how fucking much he cares about Louis and wants to take care of him and show him that he is loved.  He’s willing to take a punch in his face for such a cause.

He hears the quiet snicker of someone in the aisle next to them, probably from eavesdropping on their conversation and getting a taste of some juicy drama.  Zayn sighs as he keeps his eyes dead set on Harry’s, with no intent to break the contact anytime soon.

Suddenly, his right arm is being gripped, and he’s being pulled over to a discreet corner of the library, where it’s dim, with no one around as a witness if Harry indeed beats the shit out of him.  Zayn braces himself for it, fluttering his eyes shut as Harry looms over him.

“Look, Zayn,” Harry starts, and Zayn’s eyes immediately open at the fact that Harry is _still_ trying to use the nice, cordial voice. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but Louis—“

“Listen, _Harry_ ,” Zayn starts, putting a horrid emphasis on his name.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t like you.  I don’t like the way you talk to me, the way you look at me, the way you fucking breathe—I despise every single part of you, so you should thank your lucky stars that I haven’t made any advances on Louis, even though I very well could.”

Harry blinks a few times as the grin is completely wiped off of his face.  He seems as though he’s taken aback by this information; as though he’s never gotten even the slightest feeling Zayn didn’t like him.

“What—where is this coming from?” Harry asks, completely puzzled.  “Why?  What legitimate reason have I given you not to like me—besides those pointless things you just said that don’t make any sense?”

Zayn takes a breath, because this is going to take quite a while.  He’s also bursting with adrenaline from having confidently said so many words at once, without stuttering or stumbling over his words even one bit.  He’s quite proud of himself, if he’s being honest.

“First, you barely even spend any quality time with Louis, and you’re his boyfriend.  He’s miserable and lonely, and all you care about is winning your next game,” Zayn starts, his voice strong.  “Louis is fucking amazing in every way and he deserves nothing but endless love and attention.  Also, you’re a jealous fuck, and you’re way too cocky for your own good.  Sometimes I get the feeling that you think of Louis as a prize, and that’s why you’re so possessive and threatened because you think I’ll ‘steal’ him.  He’s not yours, Harry.  Just because you can shoot a ball through a raised hoop—“

“Wow, you _really_ got me Zayn,” Harry interrupts, before laughing an evil, almost scary laugh.  His voice changes into something more stern and aggressive.  “You really fucking got me.  How can I be the jealous fuck when you’re the one bitching because Louis is _my_ boyfriend, and not yours?”  He lowers his voice as he leans an elbow on the wall, bringing his face closer to Zayn’s as he tries to evoke fear out of him.  “Face it, Zayn.  I’ll always have the one thing you probably cry yourself to sleep over every night, and that’s Louis.  If all those things you said about me were true, he would’ve left me, and he hasn’t.”

Harry reaches out his fingers to softly pinch at Zayn’s cheek.  “I may tell Louis about how he has a cute little secret admirer.  Have a nice day, Zayn,” he says, before turning around and casually walking away as though nothing had happened.

The word “no” gets lost in Zayn’s throat as a response to Harry saying he was going to tell Louis.  Zayn remains in the dark corner of the library, staring down at his feet with furrowed eyebrows and a chilling heart.

  
  


 

 

 

 {L}

Louis lets out a heavy yawn into his fist as he rests his back against the brick wall of their school building.  He’s fucking cold, and tired, and ready to feel the warm sheets of his bed instead of the cold air hitting his face and making his nose red.

The one thing about dating Harry that took Louis some time to get used to was the fact that the boy is basically the core of every social event or gathering.  He’s the team’s star basketball player, he’s charismatic, charming, _and_ he’s good looking, so naturally, everyone is drawn to him.

He’s also a people pleaser, and he’s way too nice to tell people he doesn’t have time to talk right now, or he’s annoyed by a certain thing, or he doesn’t want to do something that people ask him to.

If Harry wasn’t a people pleaser, Louis would be asleep in the passenger seat of his car right now, heading home, but instead, he’s standing outside of the school building after a game, waiting for Harry to finish conversing with all the impressed college representatives that want to chat with him before he leaves.

Five more minutes pass before Louis decides that if he’s going to be waiting, he’s going to _at least_ wait in Harry’s car.

He enters back into the building where members of the team are still occupying the hallways near the gym, as well as the gym itself, and he scans his eyes around the court to see if he can find his boyfriend anywhere.

He finally spots him, talking to some adults who are probably from some fancy university and seem to be very interested in him.  He has his bag over his shoulder, and Louis can tell by his fidgeting feet, along with the faint bags under his eyes, that he’s ready to go home too.

Louis waits until there is a break in their extremely important conversation to ask Harry for his keys so that he can wait in the car.

Harry’s expression is only a little unreadable when he reaches deep into his pocket for his keys.  Louis has no idea why Harry has been giving him strange looks lately; sort of like he’s unsure of something, or contemplating in his head…Louis doesn’t know.  He doesn’t dwell on it either, because he’s fucking tired, so he ventures out to his car and sinks into the passenger seat as the heat from the air vents slowly warms him up.

The fact that he’s wearing one of Harry’s jackets helps him relax, and he zips it all the way up so that the collar covers half of his face.

He sits there, his head rested against the window as he watches different cars pull out of the parking lot in order to go home.  He lets out a sigh just for the heck of it, because he feels just a bit weary.

He knows it’s selfish, but sometimes he wishes he could just have Harry all to himself, and that the boy wouldn’t always be occupied by other things.  He always lets those thoughts dissappear though, because Harry isn’t strictly his, and he has so much to offer the world as a person.  It would just be nice if, maybe, Harry wasn’t always so busy with _something_.

Louis knows that it’s an impossible concept anyway, because it’s about that time where scouts are always planning to speak to him, meetings are being arranged, the season’s just starting to kick off, and he’s at the height of his high school basketball experience.  He is probably the most relevant person in their entire school, and because of that, Louis needs to accept the fact that he’s going to have other things to tend to besides his boyfriend.

Which is perfectly fine, really.

He quickly wipes at a single tear that dares to escape his eye as he sits there, sinking into Harry’s jacket.  He despises the fact that his eyes choose the dumbest moments to release tears.

This is _not_ a crying matter.  Harry is happy, and Louis is happy, and even though it’s been a good two weeks since Harry’s slept over, Louis’ not going to be bothered by it.  It’s okay.

He places his hand over his mouth in order to still his trembling bottom lip as he grows more annoyed by his overbearing emotions.  He doesn’t want Harry to come into the car at any moment and wonder why he’s on the brink of tears.

His phone vibrates in the pocket of the jacket, and he pulls it out in order to tear himself away from his thoughts.  A corner of his lips quirk up as he reads the text from Zayn.

 **Zayn** : _rubbing my lava lamp right now.  got any wishes?_

Louis giggles to himself as he stares at it for a moment.  He wishes the rest of the world knew how appealing Zayn’s personality actually was, instead of seeing him as the quiet boy who is too pretentious to talk to anyone.  It’s also a blessing that Louis’ one of the few that gets to experience it, however.

“What’s got my beautiful boy laughing?” Harry asks once he opens the door to the driver’s seat.  He puts the car in drive and immediately takes Louis’ left hand in his as he pulls out of the parking space.

“It was just a text from Zayn,” Louis replies, still smiling at himself.

Harry’s eyes narrow a bit as he concentrates on the road.  “Oh.”

Louis purses his lips as he turns to look at the side of Harry’s head.  The boy looks indifferent, or maybe a little bit annoyed, and Louis can’t think of a reason why.

“You could at least act like you…care,” Louis says quietly, turning back to look ahead at the road.

Harry glances at Louis out of the corner of his eye as he continues driving.  “I do—“

“Zayn thinks you don’t like him,” Louis says, his voice still soft.

Silence consumes the car as Harry continues to drive, and Louis turns his head to stare at Harry again, who is now facing straight ahead.

“So you seriously don’t like him?  Seriously?” Louis asks incredulously.

Harry’s face scrunches up just a bit as he only slightly shakes his head.  He keeps his eyes on the road however, not even sparing a glance in his boy’s direction.

Louis sighs exhaustedly.  “Harry, Zayn’s one of my closest friends.  How could you not like him?”

“To be fair,” Harry starts, holding up a finger.  “He didn’t like me first.”

“That’s not fucking true,” Louis replies, his tone growing stronger.  “And even if it is, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t like him either.  Ever heard of being the bigger person?”

Harry briefly turns in Louis’ direction, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks like he’s been personally attacked.  Louis believes he’s speaking nothing but common sense, and he has no idea why Harry is confused.

Louis shakes his head as he pulls his eyes away from Harry and stares out of the window, continuing to softly caress his hand regardless.  “Wow.  All this time Zayn has been telling me you hated him and I just laughed and said it wasn’t true,” he nearly whispers.  He turns his head to Harry again as he starts to get riled up.  “He’s never even done anything to you.”

“Is it so _wrong_ for me to dislike somebody?” Harry asks, as though Louis is being ridiculous.  “Why can’t I dislike him?  You’re acting like he’s your brother or something.”

Louis looks away again as he toys with his fringe.

Harry brings his voice to a lower decibel.  “Or…is he like a brother to you?  Louis?”

“No,” Louis replies quickly.

The vehicle is quiet again as the sound of the humming engine continues, and Harry lets out a breath through his nose.  Louis lets his eyes concentrate on the view of the street lights rushing past as Harry continues down the road.

“He’s not a brother to you?” Harry asks.

“No.”

“So you guys aren’t that close?”

“Well, we _are_ , but…” Louis starts, before shaking his head.  “I wouldn’t think of him in a brotherly way.”

“Why?” Harry asks impatiently.  “Why can’t he be like a brother to you?”

“Why are you fucking pressing me about this?” Louis asks.  “You don’t like the fact that I’m friends with him anyway, so why do you even care?”

Harry’s eyes shift down to his lap once he stops at a red light.  His expression resembles disappointment, but Louis is certain there is _nothing_ for this boy to be disappointed about at the moment.  He’s being ridiculous, dramatic, and _childish_ , and it’s all only making Louis more eager to get home and fall asleep so that he doesn’t have to be in his presence anymore.

“I never said that,” Harry says.

“Said what?”

“That I didn’t like the fact that you were friends with him.  You can do whatever you want, just like I can, and I choose to not like Zayn.”

“Whatever,” Louis replies, resting his head on his fist.

A few more minutes of silence pass before Harry speaks up again.

“We can sleep over at my place, if you want.”

“It’s almost twelve in the morning, and we have school tomorrow,” Louis replies. “I don’t have any of my stuff, anyway.”

“Let’s skip tomorrow,” Harry says, shrugging his shoulders casually.  His right dimple appears when Louis turns to face him.  His shy grin makes Louis soften, and he’s suddenly not so riled up anymore.  “It’s only one day.  You can borrow my clothes, because you look so fucking cute in them anyway”

Louis hides his blush in his fist before turning to grin at Harry, his eyes glistening with flattery.  “We’ll spend the whole day at your place?” Louis asks.

Harry smiles wider.  “Yeah.  We can watch movies and cuddle.  Also my mum says she hasn’t seen you in a while.  She misses you.”

Louis bites back a bashful grin as he lets his eyes sink into Harry’s.

That’s how he ends up in Harry’s bed, which is far more comfortable than his own, curled up in his boy’s arms as the boy purrs into his ear.  Louis’ wearing one of Harry’s t-shirts and Harry only has boxer shorts on, giving Louis free access to run his fingers over every inch of bare skin on his torso.

It would’ve been sexy time, but in the middle of kissing, Harry had some sort of tiny breakdown.  Now Louis is holding him close, stroking his back as the boy hugs him in by his waist.

“I fucking _love_ you,” Harry whispers, his lips brushing Louis’ ear and his words coming out shaky.  Louis closes his eyes to the tickling feeling of Harry’s breath, even though it doesn’t make a difference because of the pitch blackness of Harry’s room anyway.

“I love you more than anything,” Harry says.  “I can’t imagine losing you, Louis.  I just _can’t._ ”

Tears threaten to escape Louis’ eyes from hearing how absolutely weak and cracked Harry’s voice is.  “You’ll never lose me,” Louis whispers back, bringing up a hand to stroke through Harry’s hair.  “I love you so much, Harry.  I can never love anyone else.”  He pulls the boy in closer, and he can feel the dampness from Harry’s tears on his shoulder.  Harry clutches the t-shirt at Louis’ waist.

“Promise me,” he whispers, the desperation clear in the way he says it.

Louis presses a kiss into the skin of Harry’s shoulder, his lips trembling faintly.  “I promise.”

Harry lets out a pained chuckle after a while.  “I’m sorry.  I know you’d rather be having sex right now than hearing me cry.”

Louis pulls his head back to look Harry in the eyes as best he can in the dark.  He wipes away at Harry’s tears with his thumbs.  “Don’t be sorry, Harry.  I actually, uh, needed this.”

Harry’s shiny eyes widen a bit as he stares back at Louis.  “To be reminded that I love you?”

“No…well, I _know_ you love me,” Louis says, settling his hand on Harry’s cheek.  “But it’s nice to hear it.”

Harry moves his head to the side in order to catch Louis’ thumb between his teeth, evoking a giggle from the boy’s lips.

“Also…” Louis starts, resting his head in his arms as Harry focuses his eyes on him.  “I feel like we haven’t…done a lot together lately.  Like you’re always busy—which is _okay,_ but…I need moments like these,” Louis says, ghosting his fingers across Harry’s cheek and down to his chin.

Harry inches his face into the touch of Louis’ fingers, no matter where they wander on his face.  His eyes flutter shut as he revels in the feeling of it all, and he takes a deep breath.  “How about this.  I take you out on a proper date.  We’ll dress up all fancy, I’ll pick you up, bring roses—the whole lot.  What do you think?”

Louis can’t control the wide grin spreading across his face.  “I think…” he starts, trailing his hands down to Harry’s waist.  “That you’re absolutely adorable when you try to do cliché boyfriend things,” he says as he begins to tickle him.  Harry squirms, growing short of breath as he chuckles and tries to pry Louis’ hands off of him.

“Stop!” Harry breathes as he continues to laugh uncontrollably.  He eventually subdues Louis when he leans over him, pinning the boy’s wrists to the mattress as he catches his breath.  Louis beams up at him, trying to calm his breath too as he continues to giggle.

Harry’s arms give out, and he flops on top of Louis, causing the boy to giggle even more.  He buries his nose in Louis’ hair and sniffs it thoroughly as he wraps his arms around Louis’ waist again.

“Is this how you’re going to sleep?” Louis asks with a chuckle.

Harry hums as he nods his head.

“Just squishing me?  Crushing my esophagus and whatnot?”

Harry giggles before rolling off of Louis, keeping his hands exactly where they are at Louis’ waist.  His voice is raspy as he continues to blink sleepily at the boy.  “I don’t even know where the esophagus is.  I forgot.”

“Maybe you should pay attention in Anatomy then,” Louis replies, pushing some of Harry’s hair out of his face.

“Mhm,” Harry replies as his eyes finally close for a few seconds.  He opens them again after a moment, intent to stay awake, but Louis continues to card soothing fingers through his hair.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to fall asleep after Harry does, and when his eyes open again, he’s pleased to find that Harry’s already awake, casually watching him sleep.

Louis blinks his eyes multiple times as they adjust to the brightness of Harry’s room, and he stretches out his feet as Harry eyes him fondly.

“Stop staring at me, you creep,” Louis says, scratching his side.

Harry laughs into the pillow, his hair messed up completely as his shoulders shake.  “Staring at you is my favorite hobby.”

Louis blindly reaches out a hand as his eyes flutter shut again, and he places it over Harry’s mouth, holding his lips shut as the boy continues to laugh through a closed mouth.

“Where’s your mum?” Louis asks tiredly.

“She left for work,” Harry replies, his words mumbled by Louis’ fingers still against his lips.  “She comes back late, so I don’t think she’ll ever know we skipped.”

Louis pulls back his hand and lets one of his eyes open.  “You’re so fucking sneaky.  It’s sexy.”  He curls his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, bringing him in so their noses can touch.

“Shower?” Harry asks, causing Louis’ lips to curve up as he nods his head.  Harry kisses Louis’ cheek before hurriedly pushing himself up off the bed.  “I have to take a quick piss first.”

Louis rolls his eyes as he rolls onto his back on the bed.  He works on pulling the giant t-shirt off of his body and over his head as he hears the faucet running from where Harry is washing his hands in the bathroom.

He soon joins Harry in the shower, and they giggle whilst washing each other’s hair and getting shampoo in their eyes.  It’s fully expected when Harry wipes the suds off of his face and touches his lips to Louis’ delicately at first, and then proceeding to grow hot as they get further into it.  His hands lather Louis’ scalp as their lips move together.

“So you’re sure your mum isn’t home?” Louis asks against Harry’s lips as the boy splays both hands over his ass.

Harry’s right dimple pops out in a smirk as he shakes his head, before dipping his head down to mouth at Louis’ neck.  Louis’ eyes flutter shut as Harry’s hands grip his ass more firmly and he makes a soft bite on his neck.  The water shooting from the showerhead is still fairly hot, scorching Louis’ skin as Harry continues to suck wet spots into his neck.

“Wait,” Louis giggles, his breath stuttered as he pulls Harry back by the hair on the nape of his neck.  “I don’t want giant hickeys for the whole world to see.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, his teeth biting a corner of his bottom lip as they hold contact.  “You’re right.”

He turns Louis around in one swift motion, Louis finding himself trapped between the wall of the shower and the warmth of Harry’s stunningly naked body behind his.  Louis gasps as he often does whenever Harry shows his dominant side.

Harry trails his lips from Louis’ neck, down his spine, and upon the small of his back.  He places slow, sweet kisses on his bare skin that has Louis closing his eyes again as he braces his elbows on the wall.  Harry slowly sucks bruises into his back as Louis’ breaths start to come out in short, needy pants.

“Just fuck me already,” Louis breathes as he reaches out to grab onto the shower curtain.  He hears Harry snicker from behind him.

“Okay then,” he laughs.

Louis feels the breeze of the shower curtain being pulled open as Harry leaves to go and find a condom.  He realizes how grateful he is to have a boyfriend who cares so much about safe sex, because if it was up to Louis and his alarming lack of patience, he would’ve forgotten about the existence of a condom in that moment.

Harry comes back in record time, taking his place back behind Louis and bracing gentle hands on his waist.

“I don’t need prep,” Louis whispers.  He’s nearly dying with how much he wants Harry inside him immediately.

Harry presses his face into the back of Louis’ neck as he giggles, his breath causing his hairs to stand.  “Very funny,” he murmurs as he moves one of his hands toward the cleft of Louis’ cheeks.  Louis holds his breath when Harry slides one wet finger inside, moving it in and out at a slow, controlled pace.

Louis knows he’s ready for Harry’s cock, because he’s been ready for it since he woke up that morning, so he doesn’t complain when Harry quickly works his way up to three fingers.

“God,” Louis whines, placing his head in the crook of his elbow.  He moves back on Harry’s fingers every time Harry presses into him, and he can feel how close the boy is on the side of his neck, breathing hot air into the already steaming shower.

“I-I’m ready,” Louis stutters before biting into the skin of his arm.

Harry slowly pulls his fingers out of him, and Louis’ eyes remain closed as he hears the sound of the condom packet being ripped open.  It seems like a century passes before Harry has the condom on, and is gripping Louis’ waist with firm hands.  When Harry finally eases his way inside, Louis’ mouth shoots open wide from the feeling of Harry’s cock filling him all the way up.  He slides in as deep as he can on the first go, because he knows how much Louis likes that.  Louis hooks his arm around behind him and grips Harry’s waist as best he can, urging him to give it all he has.

Harry eases out, and back in, this time with less hesitance, thanks to the help of Louis grabbing his waist and guiding him further.  Louis’ finds his cheek pressed against the wet wall of the shower as Harry fucks into him, surging his body forward time after time.

“ _Fuck,_ that’s—right there,” Louis nearly cries as his eyebrows furrow.  Harry hums lowly from behind him as he holds Louis’ waist tighter and brings his face into the crook of Louis’ neck.

“Always feel so good baby,” Harry whispers into his ear.  Louis can only respond with a strangled sound as Harry continues to thrust into him more determinedly.  “So fucking good—Jesus _Christ,_ ” he murmurs as he starts to pick up his pace.  Louis always loves when the boy gets lost in how good everything feels, and he starts thrusting at a less steady pace as he starts to lose all control.  It sends Louis over the edge as well, the feeling of Harry pounding into him, pressing his body into the wall he’s up against and hitting his prostate repeatedly.

Louis’ not even aware of how loud he’s wailing as Harry fucks him relentlessly.  Harry reaches out one hand to lace their fingers together as he sinks his teeth into Louis’ neck.

Harry’s voice is choked and weak once he speaks.  “I love you so much—need you—fuck, I’m gonna… _fuck_.”

Harry’s hips move erratically as a deep moan escapes his lips and vibrates in Louis’ ear drums, and Louis doesn’t take much longer to come after hearing such a beautiful sound.

Louis doesn’t realize how cold the shower had gotten until Harry pulls out from him with a wet, slick sound, and all he’s left with is the feeling of the water hitting his back.  Louis turns around to face Harry as the boy slips the condom off of his dick, and Louis smirks at how heavily they’re both breathing.  He cups a hand around the back of Harry’s neck and brings him in for a slow peck before murmuring against his lips.  “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> curious, whose side are you on for the argument louis & harry had in the car?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dark!harry

 

{Z}

“It’s only fair,” Louis says as he counts up the pumpkin spiced cookies on his tray.

Zayn shakes his head as he chuckles at Louis.  “How is that fair?  You took five cookies and only left me three,” he replies whilst looking down at the cookies on his tray.  “There’s a way to distribute eight cookies equally between two people, you know that right?”

Louis rolls his eyes fondly as he brings one of the cookies up to his lips to take a bite.  He speaks with his mouth full of cookie crumbs as Zayn giggles in his direction.  “Your mum baked these, so that means that you can have them whenever you want.  My mum doesn’t bake, so I’m gonna take as many of your cookies as I can and save them for later.”

“You are really something,” Zayn laughs as he highlights a paragraph in his notes.  “I can get my mum to bake a whole batch for you if you want.  She loves you, you know.”

“Everyone loves me,” Louis replies with a grin.

“Can’t argue with that,” Zayn replies, and he hopes Louis takes it as nothing more than a friendly compliment.  He hopes the embarrassment of pining isn’t showing on his face.

Louis picks at his cookie for a moment as Zayn continues to scan his eyes over his notes, half studying and half genuinely trying to avoid the sight of Louis’ awful stunning face.  It’s become a tad bit harder to casually be around the boy, if Zayn is being honest with himself.  Since Zayn had accepted that he had feelings for the boy, it’s as though everything he does is to torture Zayn further.  The way he looks at him as though maybe he matters to Louis a little bit more than he thinks he does, the way he laughs wholeheartedly whenever Zayn says anything remotely funny, even the way he texts him and uses those ridiculous emojis that Zayn usually despises.  Louis is seriously wreaking havoc on him, and he doesn’t even know it.

Zayn picks his head up momentarily to glance over Louis’ shoulder at the lunch table Harry and his posse would usually be at.  He can’t find the boy or his basketball minions anywhere in sight at the moment.

“Wouldn’t Harry be calling you over by now?” he asks as he shifts his eyes back down to his notes and flips a page.

Louis shrugs his shoulders as he continues to pick at his cookie, and his lack of an immediate answer causes Zayn to look up at the boy.

“He has a team meeting,” Louis replies, his eyes not able to meet Zayn’s and falling back down to his tray.

“During lunch?”

Louis stuffs his mouth with the cookie before speaking again.  “Yeah, it’s so stupid,” he mumbles as he chews and swallows.  “It’s like the coach doesn’t want them to have any free time.”

“That _is_ stupid,” Zayn replies, setting his elbows on the table as he gives Louis his full attention.  “All they have to do is get the round thing into the hoop.  How much discussing does that require?”

Louis lightly kicks him under the table as he starts to laugh.  “Basketball is a complex sport, Zayn.  Just because you only care about studying, grades, and—“

“You,” Zayn replies, not realizing what he’s said until he’s already said it.  “I care about you, among all those other things.  Like, family, studies, you.”  The sudden confidence that had just overcome him is vanished immediately as he looks back down, biting at his bottom lip.  He has no idea why it’s becoming more difficult for him to simply shut his mouth.

“You care about all those other important things…and me?” Louis asks, his voice small.  “I’m in that category?”

Zayn lets out a nervous chuckle as he focuses his attention back on his notes, flipping another page.  “It’s not like I have many other friends, right?”

He sees Louis’ mouth open out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t dare to pick his head up.  A few moments of silence overshadowed by the loud environment of the cafeteria pass before Louis speaks.

“Thanks…for caring,” Louis says, and when Zayn looks up at him, he has a tiny, shy grin on his face as he plays with his fingers.  Zayn’s never seen him so frail.

Zayn grins back at him, before opening his mouth to reply.  “I…uh—I just feel a little sad for you, is all.”

“Why?”

“You just…deserve…” Zayn starts, his eyebrows knitting together out of frustration.  He looks back down at his notes for the third time and decides maybe he should try not speaking for once.  “Nevermind.  I—nevermind.”

 

~*~

 

Zayn blows a huff of air out from between his lips as he stands in front of the soda machine.  He hasn’t used one of these things in months, and the one time he decides to, his bottle of water doesn’t even come out.

“Stuck?” he hears.  He turns his head in the direction of the Irish accent, immediately grinning upon finding the blonde boy leaned against the wall.

“Yep,” Zayn replies.  “I just lost a perfectly good dollar.”

Niall shakes his head as he approaches the machine and starts punching at it aggressively with his fist.  “You have to beat the machine’s ass, Zayn,” he says with a laugh as the bottle finally falls from where it was stuck.  “You’re too soft and gentle for this world, I swear,” Niall laughs as he hands Zayn his water.  Zayn accepts his bottle of water from him as the boy clasps a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not soft,” Zayn says with a giggle as he and Niall start on their journey down the hallway.  “I broke a pencil this morning.”

Niall holds his chest as he bursts into nearly hysterical laughter.  He leans his elbow on Zayn’s shoulder as he strolls alongside him.  “Doesn’t count if it was on accident.”

Zayn rolls his eyes fondly.  “Shut up.  Being soft is nice.  At least I don’t drive like a wild hyena when I’m angry.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Niall says, giving Zayn a slap on the chest.  “That was _one_ time, when they fucked up my order at the drive thru, and honestly, you shouldn’t be getting sassy when _I’m_ your ride.”

Zayn chuckles lightly as he steps in front of his locker. “Right…” he starts, before the familiar sound of a certain sweet and genuine laugh catches his attention.  He turns his head in the direction of Louis, watching him from where he is across the hallway, chatting with Liam as he uses his hand to twist his combination.

“Mate…” Niall says, waving a hand in front of Zayn’s face that causes him to shake back to life.  “You’ve messed up your locker combination twice.  I think you have to _look_ at it to get it right.”

Zayn laughs halfheartedly as he focuses his eyes back on his locker, successfully unlocking it and pulling one of his textbooks out.  Once he closes his locker, naturally, his eyes want to fall right back on top of Louis, but instead he’s met with Niall’s body, blocking his view as he leans against the lockers.  Zayn gives the boy a questioning look.

Niall shakes his head slowly, knowingly.  “Just…no, bro.”

Zayn puts on a fake grin as he concentrates on stuffing his book in his backpack.  “What are you…even talking about?”

Niall glances back over his shoulder at where Louis is now alone, his back rested against the wall as he scrolls through his phone.  Zayn eventually gives in and joins him in admiring Louis from afar, and he knows Niall knows.  He can feel it, and he’s terrified at the fact that it’s _that_ obvious.

Niall turns back to Zayn, rubbing a comforting hand over his shoulder.  “If I were you—I just…wouldn’t.”

Zayn keeps the phony grin on his face as he tries to disguise the hurt of someone else knowing and actually feeling bad for him.  He starts the other way toward the exit doors of the building.  “So, are you ready to go or what?”

 

~*~

 

Zayn had tried to keep his distance from Louis for a while.  He didn’t stay _too_ distant in order to not make it obvious, thus causing the boy to question what he did wrong, but he’s felt that the distance at which he’s kept himself has been overall healthy.  He figures it has to be wrong to spend so much time around a guy, a _friend,_ who has a boyfriend, all the while wanting him so bad he contemplates leaping over the cafeteria table and embracing his rosy cheeks in a glorious manner.  He’s not sure Louis would take that too well.  He’s _certain_ Harry wouldn’t take that too well.

It’d been a healthy two days of not seeing Louis in person and only communicating with him over text, when Zayn accidentally stumbled upon him while making a midnight drive from the library.  In the back of his mind, he knew this was Louis’ street, but he tried to convince himself he was just taking a different route.  He wasn’t going to go inside anyway.  He figured he just wanted to see his house; remember that Louis lived and breathed in there, and that he wasn’t a perfectly groomed figment of Zayn’s imagination.  Two days of not seeing him in person was more than Zayn thought he could handle.

He hadn’t expected to find the dark figure of someone sat on the front steps of his home, head in their hands, and shoulders shaking.  Zayn didn’t hesitate to slow his car down to a stop, because he knew it couldn’t have been anyone else in his family by the fact that he didn’t see a shadow of long, flowing hair.  It’s in fact Louis crying, and this becomes an even more accurate observation when he rolls the window down and calls for the boy whose sobs contain no sound.  He’s not at all as loud as he needs to be, but Louis hears him nonetheless, picking his head up.

“Zayn?” he asks, voice weak and small as he starts wiping at his eyes.  “I was just—uh, what are you doing here?”

Zayn forces out a tiny grin even as he struggles not to crumble at the sight of Louis falling apart.  “Was taking a detour.”

“Oh,” Louis replies, placing his hands in his pockets.

“Why are you crying?”

Louis takes a deep, shaky breath as he sits there.  His voice is barely audible over the sound of Zayn’s car humming.  Zayn knows he should maybe get out of his car, but he already feels he’s overstepping his boundary from where he is.  He doesn’t trust himself to get close to Louis like he used to.

“’S nothing.”

Zayn disregards all of his useless fears and worries as he turns off his car and opens the driver’s door to let himself out.  He places his hands in his pockets and takes slow steps toward Louis as the boy continues to try and regain his composure.  “It’s never ‘nothing’, Louis.  Don’t ever tell me it’s nothing when you’re sitting here, outside in this horribly cold night, crying your eyes out.  I want to know what’s caused this amazing boy in front of me to break down.”

Louis lets out a pained chuckle as he scoots over a bit on the steps to make room for Zayn.  “I told my mum I was going on a walk.  I hate when any of them see me cry.”

Zayn hesitantly takes his seat by Louis, making sure there’s at least a foot of space in between them.  “What happened?”

Louis runs dainty fingers through his hair as he lets out a sigh.  Zayn’s noticed the boy has yet to look him directly in the eye since he stepped out of his car.

“Harry canceled our date.  That’s all,” he says, before scoffing at himself.  “It’s stupid—it’s just a date.  God, why am I…”  He scrunches his hand in his hair as he tries to blink back tears.

Zayn’s hand reaches out to settle on the back of Louis’ neck, just staying there, gentle and comforting.  “It’s okay, Louis.  You don’t have to try and shut out your feelings around me.  It’s okay to be vulnerable once in a while, especially with me.  Voice your emotions.”

Louis finally turns to look at Zayn, his eyes shiny, but not daring to shed anymore tears.  “It’s just…this was the main thing I’ve been looking forward to all week…we haven’t had any genuine alone time—where he’s not constantly checking his phone for basketball bullshit and messages, fuck.  I just thought he would set those things aside for this one thing, this one thing that we’ve been planning for almost a month now, but no—he goes and cancels it.”

Zayn’s already shaking his head before Louis can finish speaking.  He brushes his thumb against the skin where his hand continues to rest on the back of Louis’ neck.  “You have a right to be mad.  Your feelings _are_ valid, Louis.”

“I know, but it’s also, like—“ Louis starts, gesturing vaguely with his hands.  “Harry doesn’t have control over it.  I don’t even know who or what I’m mad at.”

“He does,” Zayn says, moving his hand in order to brush some of Louis’ strands out of his face.  “He chose to do—whatever that bullshit is he’s doing, instead of being here with you.  Cry.  Let it out.  Be sad, Louis.  He’s being fucking horrible to you.”

It’s Louis’ turn to shake his head as Zayn’s tone grows more hostile.  “I can’t be mad at him, Zayn.  I just…can’t.”  His voice cracks at the end of his sentence as he brings his hand up to his mouth to stifle sobs.

“C’mere, Lou,” Zayn whispers as he slides over to close the space between them and brings Louis’ head into his chest.  Louis finally lets out an unrestrained, sincere cry as he clings onto Zayn’s shirt and buries his head into the fabric of his jacket.  Zayn strokes the boy’s back as he sniffles and rids his eyes of the tears they always try so hard to keep in.

 

 

 

 

 {H}

Harry winces in pain from having been violently shoved into the ground during a game.  The roars of the crowd grow muffled in his ears as he remains wounded on the ground, struggling not to curse at the gods for allowing him to be in so much agony.  He’s almost seen the light at the end of the tunnel when one of his teammates, Cory, comes over and offers him a hand.

Harry takes his hand with difficulty, getting on his feet before Cory aggressively pulls him in close.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry I’m…” Harry starts, wiping the sweat off of his face with the bottom of his jersey.  “I—“

“I hate to go all High School Musical on you, but get your head in the game,” he hisses before slapping Harry on his back and jogging away.

Harry shakes out his body as he jogs over to stand in front of the member he’s supposed to be blocking.  His head is anywhere but “in the game” once the clock starts counting down again, and he’s absolutely certain he isn’t even present until he gets hit in the side with a basketball coming towards him at fifty at miles per hour.  Once he’s struck, the ball quickly gets stolen by the other team as Harry takes  a moment to register what has just happened, and within seconds, one of them dunks it into the basket, causing one half of the stands to erupt into cheer, while the other half boos at Harry.

As soon as a time out is called, Coach Barry unleashes his wrath.  “Harry!” the coach yells, one of his veins nearly popping out of his head.  “Get over here!”

Harry jogs over as his eyes scan the crowd of spectators once more—just in case.

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you today?” he asks, his face reddening.

“I don’t know,” Harry starts, rubbing a hand down his sweaty face.  “I’m just out of it.  I’m so sorry Coach.  I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I swear I’ll stop fucking around from here on out.”

“You’d better,” he growls, jabbing Harry in the chest with his finger.  “You’re our star player—you _have_ to remain open at all times,” he says, displaying the stance himself.  “ _Always_ be prepared for when the ball is coming at you— _always._ You should know that!”

Harry fixes the sweatband that’s settled against his hairline.  “Got it, Coach.”

The whistle blows and Coach Barry nearly shoves the boy back onto the court.  Harry rubs his hands together before getting in front of the opposing team member he’s blocking and letting his features harden with enough determination to put fear in the eyes of anyone who dare looks at him.

The sheer grit and ferociousness lasts as long as it takes for Harry to remember that Louis isn’t there.  One half-second glance at the stands allows the opposing team member to steal the ball right of Harry’s hands.  Harry tries his best to tune out his coach’s terrifying screams.

Their team still ends up winning anyway, because the rest of them worked especially hard to make up for the fact that Harry’s mind was totally somewhere other than the gymnasium.   That’s what Harry loves most about his team; the fact they can literally accomplish anything when they come together and forget about always passing Harry the ball.

Louis didn’t say he wasn’t coming to the game, but Harry thought that after numerous times now, it could go unspoken that he was always going to be expected at the games, seeing as he’d attended every single other game so far that year.  Harry has gotten used to him being there; finding his cheery, adorable face among the dozens in the crowd, smiling cutely at him and getting the same proud one in return.  The view of his favorite boy in the world always motivates him to do his absolute best on the court, because he loves turning around and catching Louis’ shy smile every time he makes a shot.  Harry’s only a good basketball player when Louis is there.  This hasn’t always been the case, but ever since they’d gotten together, Harry’s entire being has slowly adapted to Louis being there.  He hates to admit that he almost feels lost without him, because it sounds so sad and mushy, but he knows it’s the truth.  He _needs_ Louis there.

Despite their team actually winning, Harry still receives a mouthful from Coach Barry about all the techniques Harry should’ve already known about, keeping his eyes on the court and the court only, and always keeping himself open.  His teammates seem a little deflated by not getting to fully enjoy their victory, and Harry feels horrible about it.

Harry keeps his head down and avoids eye contact with his fellow team members as he maneuvers over to his locker.  He gets a few comforting pats on the back that he shrugs off as he shoves his jersey into his bag.

Liam jogs up to approach him just as he exits the locker room.

“What’s up?” he asks, his features showing a hint of worry.

Harry snorts as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his joggers, slowing down his stride.

“It’s Louis.”

“Ah,” Liam replies with a nod of his head as he straightens his bag on his shoulder.  “You know we all have that moment, when the feelings start to fade…”

Harry’s face twists in confusion as he turns his head to look at Liam.  “What?”

Liam stares back at him, his eyes full of false understanding.  “Y’know…I get it.  You’re rethinking your relationship a bit.  I mean, sure you enjoyed it as a high school fling, but now you’re probably thinking _do I really want to drag this into college_ —“

“Shut up,” Harry hisses, causing Liam’s eyes to widen.  “I’m not”—Harry winces—“thinking of breaking up with Louis.  That’s _not_ what’s wrong.  At all.”

“Oh.  Sorry,” Liam replies, looking down at his feet.

Harry sighs before speaking again.  “I probably made it seem that way, but no.  It’s about him not being at the game today.”

A puzzled look covers Liam face as he quirks one eyebrow up.  “ _That’s_ why you were playing so shitty today?”  Harry shoots him a look, which he gracefully ignores.  “C’mon Harry.  You can’t rely that heavily on him.”

“I know,” Harry replies, now looking ahead in a daze.  “It’s just…he’s been at every game of mine this year, but he wasn’t at this one, and he didn’t even tell me or anything.”

“So as your boyfriend, he’s required to come to every single basketball game?” Liam asks, a tiny smirk on his face.

Harry gives him a hard glare, causing Liam to wipe the smug look off his face.  “No.  I just play better when he’s there.  He _knows_ that.  I was all awkward and fumbling—like how I was before I started playing sports.  Like Bambi.”

Liam chuckles wholeheartedly at that, causing Harry to laugh a little too, right before he remembers he’s supposed to be sad and lost.  Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket to see if Louis has sent him any message, but he finds nothing except the reminders for the team pictures they’re taking that weekend.

“Text him,” Liam suggests.

Harry thinks about it for a moment, and ends up very close to doing just that, but he starts to feel something he hasn’t felt since the starting weeks of their relationship.  He feels like he’s being clingy and slightly annoying, and that Louis would much rather he leave him alone.  It had originally taken a while for Louis to tell Harry that _no_ , nothing Harry had ever done—no matter how he double, triple, or quadruple texted him, stayed at his house five nights in a row, or bought them matching Christmas hats to wear that one year—Louis stressed that he was _never_ smothered or annoyed by it.  Louis kept expressing to Harry that he loved that kind of stuff, so eventually Harry became comfortable being his normal, clingy self.  Now that Louis has decided to randomly not show up at one of his games, nor text him to let him know he wasn’t coming, Harry isn’t feeling so confident in that clingy aspect of himself right now.

Harry shoves his phone back in his pocket as he shakes his head.  “I’ll…wait a bit.”

Even though it has been a long day for Harry, and he wants nothing more than to cuddle his bed sheets and dream about ponies, he knows his day isn’t over.  It can’t be.  He refuses to go to sleep not knowing if he did something to make Louis upset or not.  He just didn’t know how to go about the whole situation.

Harry is immensely sore once he finally slides into his driver’s seat around 6 pm, but he’s still determined to go over to Louis’ and spend the night with him, even if it means he’s probably going to pass out and sleep within fifteen minutes of arriving at his house.  He figures anything he’d done to bother the boy will be made up with this surprise visit, complete with food and whatever else the boy desires from Harry.  Harry will do anything to make sure they’re on the same page again.

Harry picks up Greek takeout on the way there, ordering the salad for himself and zucchini noodles for his boyfriend because he loves it, and also because he enjoys doing the noodle kiss thing from the Lady and the Tramp.

He’s turning on Louis’ street just as the sun is almost finished setting, and the magnificent colors that are plastered across the sky inspire him to suggest that they sleep outside in one of those tents that Louis’ mom stores in the attic.

His hopes and dreams for the evening are shattered when he pulls up in front of Louis’ house to find him and Zayn sat on his front steps, textbooks and worksheets scattered on their laps, laughing up a storm and talking about whatever it is Zayn likes to talk about—if he likes to talk about anything, that is, because in Harry’s opinion, the boy is quite a bore.

Harry hadn’t properly seen Louis that day, because he’d arrived to school late and therefore wasn’t present in the class they shared.  Harry had idiotically assumed he’d see him at the game, which was obviously proven false.  He just didn’t expect his first time seeing him that day to be the image of him, next to Zayn, giggling and clearly perfectly content with missing the game.

“Haz!” Louis nearly screams once Harry gets out of his car and pushes the door shut.  Louis stands up and quickly approaches him with open arms and surprised, beautiful eyes.

The hostile spirit Harry had grown momentarily evaporates as Louis jumps into his arms, nearly causing Harry to drop all of the food he had purchased.

“Don’t spill your food,” Harry laughs as his cheek remains squeezed against Louis’ shoulder.

Louis holds him in a tight embrace for a few more seconds before letting go, keeping Harry at arm’s length.  If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d think the boy’s about to cry by how much his eyes are resembling glass.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says breathily, grinning up at Harry like he’s absolutely fascinated.

“Surprise,” Harry nearly whispers, leaning forward to press his head against Louis’ as they grin stupidly as each other.

A cough in the background brings Harry to remember why he’d initially felt hostile upon arriving.

Louis takes the to-go boxes out of Harry’s hands before he turns to gesture at Zayn.  “Was just trying to get some studying in.”

“Yep,” Zayn adds, rubbing his hands together to create a little heat.  “Hey, Harry.”

“Hi,” Harry replies, without sparing him a glance as he stares at Louis.

“We were inside at first, but Zayn thought it would be cool if we sat under the sky as the sun was setting,” Louis says with a grin.  “So pretty to look at.  We should do it sometime,” he adds before turning around to enter through his front door.

There’s a moment where Louis is inside and Harry is standing a few feet away from Zayn, who is sitting on the steps with a smug look on his face.

“He couldn’t fully concentrate on the books though,” Zayn says abruptly.  “That’s Louis.  His mind’s always everywhere.  Awestruck by every little thing.”

“I know him, thanks,” Harry replies with a fake grin before following Louis inside.

“So this is why you didn’t come to the game today?” he asks, going for casual as he rests his back next to the front door.

Louis’ eyebrows rise as he gives Harry a pointed look, as though he’s trying to hint at the fact that Harry’s being ridiculous.  “’This’ meaning, utilizing time to study for a giant, extremely important exam I have tomorrow, because it’s a school night?  Yeah.”

“I mean, it seems like you guys are joking around more than actually studying,” Harry says.

Louis bites on the inside of his cheek as he nods his head slowly, and Harry’s known this boy long enough to realize he’s about be hit with something he’s not quite prepared for.

“Wow, Harry.  I’m so sorry that he’s not only my tutor, but my actual friend,” Louis says, gesturing outside toward Zayn.  “I’m so sorry that I can’t go to every single game because I don’t have sports going for me to excuse my academic performance.  I’m so, fucking sorry that I actually have to care about my grades.”

Harry’s lips part as he stands up straighter, pointing at his chest.  “ _I_ care about my grades too, you know.”

“Yeah, but you could fart on all your tests and colleges would still offer you a scholarship to be on their basketball teams,” Louis replies, before turning to grab cups from the kitchen cabinet.  “I have to actually try.”

Harry’s voice softens as he walks over to where Louis is in the kitchen, setting his hands on the countertop with hesitance.  “I…you already know I’m going to uni with you.  We’ve discussed that, so it doesn’t matter that all these big name places are offering me scholarships.  I don’t care—“

“Okay, well in the meantime I need someone to hang out with other than you,” Louis says with a shrug.  “Will you let me have that?  Will you let me have other friends, or do I have to be locked away in a cage unless I’m following you around basketball courts?”

Harry’s hit with more hurt than he’s felt from Louis in a while, and he stands there with his lips parted and his eyes probably threatening to shed pathetic tears.  He doesn’t even know what to say to this boy right now, let alone if he wants to say anything at all, and he doesn’t know what to fucking do.  He’s dealt with a pissed off Louis many times before, and most of the times he just immediately apologizes and waits for it all to blow over.  This time, however, he feels like that won’t do, because the root of the problem is deeper than Louis is letting on.  Harry’s convinced the root of the problem is—

“Everything alright?” Zayn asks, peeking in through the doorframe of the front door.

Louis’ hardened features soften a little as he turns to Zayn and nods his head, tapping his fingers against the to-go boxes.  “Yeah.  We’re just…ugh.”

“It’s fine.  I’ll text you later, okay?” Zayn says, his tone gentle and comforting, as though he’s trying to provide a safe area for Louis from Harry or summat.  Harry fucking hates it.  Zayn is trying so hard to insert himself into their dynamic, and Harry, more than anything, wants to warn him to fucking stop.  If _anyone’s_ going to provide a safe haven for Louis to vent, express his feelings, and be soft, it’s _Harry._ Not Zayn.

“See ya,” Louis says, a tiny grin creeping its way onto his face as Zayn throws him a peace sign.

Harry scratches behind his neck as his eyes remain on the door that just closed behind Zayn.  “I…I think I left something in my car.”

Louis shrugs as he goes over to the fridge to retrieve drinks.

Harry takes the time to leave through the front door, remembering to close it behind himself. He catches Zayn just as the boy is sliding one of his textbooks into his backpack with a calm, practiced ease that has always annoyed Harry to no end.

Harry steps in front of him, standing over him as he continues to get his stuff together as though Harry isn’t right there.

Harry takes in a deep breath before speaking.  “What are you doing?”

Zayn glances up at him, a smirk on his face that makes Harry’s fists tighten from where they’re stuffed in his pockets.  “I’m trying to get my stuff and leave.  I thought it was obvious.”

Harry has completely lost control when he violently grabs Zayn by the collar of his shirt, brings him to his feet and walks him backwards until his back is shoved against the brick wall of Louis’ house in one swift motion, knocking the breath right out of a now wide-eyed Zayn.

“What’s your problem?” Zayn nearly spits, clearly struggling under Harry’s tight grasp in the collar of his shirt.

“ _You_ ,” Harry hisses under his breath, his eyes stinging.  “ _You’re_ my problem.”

Zayn breathes heavily as he continues to stare back at Harry, slight panic in his eyes as Harry’s grasp doesn’t let up even a bit, nearly carving a whole through his chest.

Harry brings his face closer, nearly growling at the boy.  “I know what you’re doing,” he says, and his eyes are now watery, which Harry knows is backwards considering he’s the one that’s holding Zayn against his will.  “I know what you’re _fucking_ doing, and it won’t work.”

“What are you talking about?” Zayn asks, his breaths uneven.

Harry pulls back a little, only to jerk forward again, knocking the breath out of Zayn once more as he winces.

“You won’t take him from me.  I _refuse_ to let you take him from me,” Harry says through his teeth.  “He’s.  Mine.”

He finally lets Zayn go, watching as the boy rubs a hand against his hurting chest.  Harry doesn’t linger a second longer before wiping the unfallen tears out of his eyes and stalking back into Louis’ house, shutting the door behind him.

He re-enters the kitchen to find Louis sitting at one of the chairs, the food Harry bought set in front of him as he stares blankly into the plate.  His feet dangle below him because of how high the chair is, and he swings them back and forth as he grasps his completely clean fork in his right hand.

Harry slows down his steps as he approaches him.  He tries to make his voice as strong as possible when he speaks.  “You’re not eating?”

“’M not hungry,” Louis replies, his eyes still focused.  His lips curve downward in a slight frown as he stares down at his plate, and Harry prays to the heavens that he’s not about witness his favorite boy cry.  Witnessing him cry is like watching a time lapse of sunflowers dying.

Harry doesn’t know if Louis’ in the mood to be touched by him, so he keeps his distance on the other side of the table, drumming his fingers against it.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Harry asks quietly.

“Just…” Louis starts, continuing to kick his feet.  “It sucks that you won’t let me have any other friends, Harry.  It really, fucking sucks.”

Harry nods his head slowly as he inhales and exhales through his nose.  The last thing he wants is to get mad at Louis, but he feels like however he says it, it’s going to be interpreted that way.

“You can be friends with whoever you want, Louis,” Harry replies.  “But don’t expect me to stand there and smile while you flirt with Zayn.”

Louis finally looks up at Harry with red rimmed eyes that are already starting to fill up again.  The image isn’t sadness, Harry realizes.  It’s quickly turning into rage.

“ _Flirting_?” Louis asks incredulously, his voice filled with hurt.  “You really think I’m _flirting_ with him, Harry?”

Harry scratches at his head as he looks away.  “Well—maybe—that’s how it _looks_ , Louis!  That’s how it looks to me!”

“ _Fuck_ you!  You know I would _never_ —“

“Just forget it!” Harry yells, Louis nearly jumping at how loud his volume is.  Harry fully expects Lottie to come downstairs anytime now to check on what’s going on.

Louis wipes at his eyes as he slides down from his seat.  His voice is just as loud and pained as it was before, despite the tears coming out of his eyes.  “How am I supposed to forget you said something like that?  Now, all I can be is fucking _hurt_ that you would even _think_ I would” —his face scrunches up—“ _look_ at anybody else that way.”

“Maybe that was too farfetched,” Harry replies, looking down at his feet as he brings his voice back down to a level one.  “I just…I dunno.  I…”

“Just say what you wanna say, Harry,” Louis says, crossing his arms as he leans on the counter right next to the boy.  “Say it.  I’m sick of you keeping all this stuff bottled up inside and then waiting for one moment to let it all out.”

“I never—“

“You _always_ do that,” Louis presses.

Harry’s face twists into hurt mixed with mild offense.  “No, I don’t.”

“Then _say_ what you really wanna say, Harry!”

“ _Fine_!  I don’t want you hanging out with Zayn anymore!”

Louis’ mouth opens in surprise as his arms remain crossed, and then he proceeds to circle around Harry, nodding slowly at him with intense intimidation.  “I knew it.  I fucking _knew_ it.”

“Don’t do this,” Harry says, finally breaking down and feeling a few tears roll down his cheeks.  He places his head in his hands as Louis continues to push him.

“You’ve already done it, Harry.  You started it,” Louis replies.  “I just knew you’d want to strip me of the _one_ person I ever even talk to!”

“Louis, you know I’m always there for you if you ever need to talk—“

“ _Are_ you?” Louis asks, so loud and sharp that Harry takes in a breath.  “You’re barely _ever_ there!  These days you’re always so busy with basketball and all that other bullshit that it seems like you don’t care about me anymore!”

“Of _course_ I care about you—“

“And you know who’s there when you aren’t, which is most of the time?  Zayn.  Zayn is,” Louis says, drilling a whole in Harry’s downcast head with his eyes.  “He reminds me that I actually have somebody that cares for me besides you, and I _love_ that feeling!  You really wanna take that feeling away from me, Harry?”

Harry’s stunned into near silence as he continues sniffling and wiping his eyes.  He can’t bear to look at Louis, even as the boy continues to look straight through him and test his every weakness.  Louis should _know_ that the last thing Harry would _ever_ want to do is take away something that means so much to Louis, but the boy told him to say what he was feeling, so he said what he was feeling.  Was it wrong for him to not want Louis to hang out with Zayn?  Harry was certain any boyfriend would act this way.

Harry hasn’t even realized how alone and sad Louis has probably been from all the times that Harry has canceled on him or given him empty promises.  He’s always acted like everything’s okay, so Harry assumed as much.  Harry isn’t a fucking mind reader; he can’t just magically know that Louis is constantly feeling all of these things he always keeps inside.

Harry can feel him slipping, and it’s not because Harry is easing on his grasp.  _Louis_ is.  And Harry _can’t_ just let him go running to Zayn.  He’d die before he’d let that happen—he just _can’t_.

Harry lifts his head to look at Louis, who’s quietly crying, tiny sniffles here and there as he keeps his eyes glued to Harry’s.  Harry rarely ever sees him cry, because he knows how much the boy hates doing it.  Harry hates it just as much.  Louis is fucking gorgeous, and the last thing Harry ever wants to see on that boy’s cherubic face are tears—especially tears caused by Harry.

“Louis, I love you,” Harry says weakly.  “I care about you so much.  God, I care about you more than I care about myself.  You’ve gotta know that.”

Louis barely nods as his eyes fall down to the floor.

Harry steps forward to touch the bottom of Louis’ chin and bring his gaze back up.  “I’m sorry if I ever made you think otherwise.  I’m sorry about not realizing how essential Zayn was to you.  I’m fucking—sorry about everything that’s making you cry right now.  Just please, forgive me, and I can hold you tonight, and kiss you all over, and we can whisper ‘I love you’ to each other and—please.  I need that, baby.  We’ll fix everything, I promise.  I just need you.”

Louis’ bottom lip starts to tremble a bit, and Harry takes that as his cue to pull the boy in, settling his head on his shoulder and holding him close.  He rubs his hand up and down the boys arm and strokes his other hand through the boys hair, keeping his head right in the crook of his neck.  He feels some of his own tears fall as he continues to embrace him.

“I’m sorry too,” Louis nearly whispers into Harry’s shirt.  “I’m sorry for unknowingly flirting with Zayn—“

“No, you don’t have to—“

“No, Harry.  If you think it was flirting, then it was flirting.  If I saw you flirting with another guy, I’d be pissed too, and it wouldn’t matter that you didn’t think you were flirting because that’s how I would take it,” Louis says.  “You have a right to be mad, and I’m so sorry.”

Harry presses a kiss into Louis’ hair as he tries to blink back tears.  “I hope you know I’m always going to fight for this.  I’m never going to let you go easily.”

Louis chuckles softly for half a second, gripping onto the material at Harry’s waist.  “We’ve been through too much.  I can’t imagine…I just—“

“A world where I’m not with you doesn’t exist.  It’s imaginary.  I love you too much,” Harry says.

“I love you too.”

Harry thinks back to all of the bullshit they had to live through once people started figuring out they were dating.  He remembered that, in the midst of all of that, he always knew that when he sat next to Louis in class, at one of the school assemblies, or when Harry was at his house as a “friend”, and they shared a blanket, Louis would hold his hand in secret, rubbing is thumb over his palm and spreading a warmth that traveled through Harry’s body within seconds.  No matter how bad things got, Harry knew that giving up on accepting himself would be giving up on something as little as Louis innocently holding his hand privately, letting him know he was there.

He’s never going to give up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave comments with any of your thoughts! x


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prepare to cry

 

 

{L}

Louis’ pretty sure it’s his horrid headache that wakes him up and causes him to involuntarily slide out of bed before 9 am.  He drags his feet across the floor in order to make his way into the bathroom and release all of his bodily fluids, but not before he catches himself in the mirror.  His eyes are red and only a little puffy from crying the night before, which is something he’s gotten more used to doing these days.  He hates it.  Not only is crying the worst and most vulnerable occurrence in the world, it makes its own case even worse by making sure it can be known by all that you cried the night before, by leaving all the signs on your face.

Louis sighs as he looks in the mirror for a few more seconds.

“Why is crying a thing?  Why does it even exist?” he asks his reflection before walking over to the toilet.

He finishes his business and washes his hands in the sink, before deciding he definitely wouldn’t want Lottie nor his mother to see him this way and worry about him.  He splashes cold water on his face repeatedly in order to get rid of the redness, because it’s something he thinks he’s read online before.  He uses the pads of his fingers to rub it against his eyes and wipe it off as best he can.

The water helps only a little bit, and Louis decides that if his mother questions him about anything, he’ll just become a brilliant actor and claim he’s fallen ill.

He almost trips only once on his way towards his bedroom door, and his head continues to pound as he walks down the stairs and winces at the sunlight coming from the window over the front door.

The smell of eggs and sausages causes a faint grin to form on his lips, but it’s immediately wiped off when he reaches the bottom of the stairs and realizes Lottie’s only made it for herself.

Louis’ lips part in betrayal as he approaches Lottie at the kitchen table.  “You didn’t make me any?”

Lottie shrugs as she continues to move her fork around her scrambled eggs.  “I was gonna, but then I got lazy.”

“Best sister award definitely goes to you,” Louis mumbles sarcastically as he goes over to open up the fridge.

“Um, yeah it does, because I covered your ass every time you came home high as hell,” Lottie says pointedly, her mouth full of food.

Louis huffs as he pours himself a bowl of cereal.  “Whatever.  Where’s mum?”

“Left to run some errands.”

“You know you wouldn’t have gotten away with being this selfish if she was here,” Louis says.

Lottie lets out an exasperated sigh.  “Are you _still_ bitching about me not making you breakfast?  God, if you want it that bad, call Harry over to cook it for you.  Isn’t he a good cook?”

Louis’ cheeks turn a slight shade of red as he grabs his bowl in order to take it upstairs with him.  “And give you the satisfaction of ogling at him?  Yeah right.”

He ignores her shy giggles as he makes his way back up the stairs.

Louis spends his Saturday the only way he can, alone and working on bullshit he’s been putting off for far too long, like cleaning up his messy room, writing his college application essays, remembering to drink enough water, stuff like that.

It’s almost twelve at midnight when Louis gets a text from Zayn out of the blue. It’s sort of odd, considering how long it’s been since they’ve texted, and that’s because Louis hadn’t reached out to him and Zayn probably hadn’t reached out because of the fact that Louis hadn’t reached out.  Louis keeps telling himself that he isn’t doing it on purpose, and that they just don’t have much they need to talk about, but as he reads Zayn’s text in the dark of his bedroom, he knows that’s utter bullshit.

**Zayn:** _I don’t wanna elevate alone :(_

Louis smirks as he blinks at the bright screen of his phone.  He can just imagine the exact smooth, quiet way Zayn would say that in person.  Just the fact that he worded it that way almost makes Louis laugh out loud.

Despite _whatever_ , Louis genuinely loves Zayn’s presence; he almost thinks having that boy around is something he needs to function, in the least dramatic way possible.  Zayn provides his life with a balance that he wasn’t sure he needed until he met him.

Louis doesn’t even know why he’s actually taking a moment to decide whether or not he wants to go and get high with Zayn; _of course_ he does.  The fact that he even doubts that he wants to go pisses him off a little.  He loves Harry with every inch and corner of his heart, but the boy doesn’t control him.  Louis makes his own decisions, and he feels that if he wants to continue having Zayn around, he’ll very well continue having Zayn around.

He texts Zayn that he’ll be there, right before sliding out of bed and making sure to escape through the front door without a peep.

Zayn’s the one who opens the door once Louis arrives, and it’s like a breath of fresh air, after not having seen him so closely for a while.  It’s comparative to coming in contact with an old friend after a while, even though it’s probably only been four or five days.

“Hi,” Zayn says upon opening the door, followed by a delighted sigh.

“Hey,” Louis replies with a soft smile before making his way inside.

Once they make their way upstairs, Louis discovers Niall, already sat in Zayn’s bean bag chair, playing with the lava lamp and moving it around near his face.

“Oh—Niall,” Louis says as he plops down on Zayn’s bed.  “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It shouldn’t be news to you that _I’m_ his best friend,” Niall says dramatically, sitting up in his chair.  He turns to Zayn teasingly.  “What, you didn’t tell him?”

Zayn throws a pillow at him as he makes space for himself on his bed as well.  “I invited Niall over to save my ass,” he explains to Louis, causing Niall to scoff.

Louis’ eyebrows quirk up in question as Zayn gets out the bong.

“I wouldn’t want to offend Harry by only inviting you, and having us, be together…alone and such,” Zayn says a bit nervously.

“Listen,” Louis replies, setting a hand on Zayn’s shoulder.  “Don’t let Harry intimidate you.  If you want to invite me over to hang out at anytime, don’t feel paranoid about it.”

“God, all these emotions are killing my vibe,” Niall huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest and slumps back in the bean bag chair.

“That’s as emotional and disgusting as we’re gonna get today, promise,” Louis assures him with a grin.  “I need this.  I feel like I haven’t let loose in a while.”

“Oh,” Niall says, his voice turning a hint sad.    His prior neutral state is suddenly replaced with a thoroughly apologetic one as he shakes his head at Louis.  “It’s always hard, mate.  Sorry.”

Zayn turns to look at Louis at the exact same time Louis looks at him, and one expression is clearly evident on both of their faces; confusion.

“Sorry about what?” Louis asks.

“Yeah.  What are _you_ talking about?” Zayn asks, suddenly more interested as he settles his back against the bed frame and brings one of his knees up to his chest.

Niall’s face turns such an obvious shade of red that Louis can’t believe he even dare tries to lie.  “I—I guess nothing.  Nothing.  Forget about me.”

Louis’ voice becomes unbearably stern and demanding, which is a skill he possesses that always comes in handy.   “ _What_ are you talking about, Blondie?”

“I—“ Niall starts, brushing his hand through his hair.  “I guess he hasn’t done it yet—I, um…I’m sorry.  I’ll shut up now.”

“He hasn’t done what yet?  Who is _he?_ Harry?  Zayn, do you know anything about this?”

Zayn shakes his head innocently, crossing his heart.

Louis turns back to Niall, staring him down so he’ll fall apart and break.

“I should’ve never spoken, fuck,” Niall whispers, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.  “That’s something I need to work on about myself.”

“Among many other things,” Zayn adds with a giggle.

“I’m still waiting for you to explain what the fuck you’re talking about,” Louis says impatiently.

Niall breathes in and out a few times as Zouis’ eyes linger on him, and finally, after what seems like a century, he gives in.

“I’m just gonna say what I heard…This isn’t credible or anything, but,” Niall starts, now fumbling with a loose thread on his joggers as he furrows his eyebrows in regret.  “I heard that maybe…sorta…possibly, Harry was planning on breaking up with you.”

Louis’ eyebrows are touching the ceiling as he nods his head slowly, struggling to collect and absorb all of this new information.  His moment of recollection only takes a few seconds to turn into a slow, gradual build up of infuriation inside of him.  There are two things that happen to his voice when he’s _this_ angry; either he sounds loud and squeaky, or his words come out terrifyingly calm—right now, his voice box opts for the latter.

“From whom did you hear this?”

“I was eavesdropping on some of the mates on his team,” Niall says.  “I thought he’d done it already.  I’m sorry.”

Louis laughs dryly, causing Zayn to scoot himself up from behind him and set a hand on his shoulder.  “You thought he’d done it already,” he says unvaryingly, his eyes now wandering off and focusing on nothing.  He still isn’t quite sure of what he’s heard through his ears from this Irish boy’s mouth.

“He’s breaking up with me.  Wow, that’s…” Louis starts, his voice trailing off as he focuses on a spot on the patterned rug.  “Interesting.”

He hears Zayn sigh sadly behind him.  “Louis, don’t—“

“No, I’m fine,” Louis says, shrugging Zayn’s hand off of his shoulder.  “I am fine.  I’m just fucking fine.  Good thing he didn’t do it yet, right?  Now I have time to prepare myself.”

“Lou, they’re just rumors,” Zayn says, almost pleadingly as though he’s afraid Louis’ about to break.

Louis finally regains his focus and shakes himself free of the situation, plastering a smile across his face.  “Whatever.  Where’s the bong?”

The next day at school, Louis is fully determined to burst through those front doors, demanding to see Harry Styles and question the shit out of him, but his plans are soiled when the first thing Harry does upon seeing him that morning is kiss his forehead, like he always does.  The gesture immediately softens Louis, and he puts off his dramatic confrontation until later.  When Harry stops being sweet even a little, Louis will bring it up.  He will.

Even in the class they share together, Harry still gently runs his knuckles against Louis’ thigh under the table, laying his hand there until Louis rests his palm on top of it and brushes his fingers over his skin.  Everything’s the same, even though Louis is still paranoid.

Harry kisses his cheek right before they part ways, and Louis can’t feel any difference in the way his lips linger on Louis’ skin for a moment longer than they should.  No difference in the way Harry pulls him in close, whispering in his ear that he’ll see him at lunch.  All of these things still don’t cause the worry bubbling inside of Louis to disappear.

It’s just that, Louis is very self-oriented, and that’s the way he’d always been before Harry dribbled a basketball into his life and decided to make him fall in love.  Louis hates the feeling of uncertainty or insecurity that he’s feeling every time he thinks about how evidently, Harry’s teammates are already in on the big fat joke that involves Louis getting dumped sometime in the future.  It fucking hurts, and Louis keeps bracing himself for it as the day nears its end.  It feels like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

After a while, the broken, small feeling encompassing Louis turns into pure bitterness at the fact that Harry had actually expressed to his peers that he was planning on breaking up with Louis.  _Who_ did he think he was?  Sure, Louis loves him and his eyes and his mouth and his tiny little love handles, along with the way he never fails to laugh at Louis’ lame one-liners, but that’s beside the point.  At the end of the day, _no_ _one_ humiliates Louis, and he’s going to make sure Harry understands that.

Louis heads straight toward the gymnasium once the bell rings to signify the end of the school day, and he finds all of Harry’s teammates already in the locker room, undressing and getting ready for the basketball practice they obviously attend every single day.

Harry’s not in there at first, so Louis rests his back against one of the lockers, his jaw tight as he ignores all the weary looks from the members of the team, probably feeling sorry for him and how he’s about to be dumped.

When Harry finally comes in, most of the team members have already left, and Louis was aware that they moved a lot faster in order not to intrude on whatever was obviously about to happen between Harry and Louis.

Harry approaches Louis, only appearing slightly puzzled as he pulls him into a hug.  There are only three or four more people in the locker room as Harry sweeps Louis’ hair out of his face.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks.

Louis puts one finger up, motioning for Harry to wait until the locker room is completely clear.  Harry takes one step back, hesitantly clasping his hands together.  Louis’ vastly familiar with all of his facial expressions, so it isn’t difficult to figure out that the boy is slightly scared.

As soon as the door closes after the last jock, Louis blurts his question out to Harry at high volume.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Harry’s eyes immediately go wide, resembling a deer in headlights, and it seems as though he’s been attacked out of nowhere.  He closes the space between them, setting a gentle hand on Louis’ arm.

Louis continues to speak even as Harry’s mouth opens.  “Because that’s perfectly fine, but you don’t have to announce it to the whole school before _me_.  Isn’t our relationship worth more than that?  Harry, I thought—“

“Of _course_ not, babe.  What even— _Why_ would you think that?” Harry asks, his eyebrows furrowing.  Louis simmers down a bit as Harry locks gaze with him, sliding his hand down his arm in order for their palms to meet and eventually intertwine.  “I’m not breaking up with you.  Not now, not ever.”

Louis’ stern facial expression turns into one of regret and slight embarrassment as he grips onto Harry’s hand.  “Oh.  I just…I’m sorry.”

Harry lets out a long exhale, and Louis’ sure he’s thinking _what am I going to do with this boy_.  He suddenly looks unsure, as though there’s something bothering him.

“Unless… do you think we need a break or something?” Harry asks.

“No,” Louis replies, much too quickly for his own good.

“Good, because I don’t think so either,” Harry says, followed by an obvious sigh of relief.  “That would, uh…crush my soul,” he adds with a weak laugh.

Louis gulps before speaking.  “Yeah.  I’m sorry I ambushed you like that.  I’m being a total drama queen.  I’m just…I’m just gonna go,” Louis says, awkwardly pointing his thumb toward the exit of the locker room.  He feels Harry’s eyes on him as he turns around and makes his way over to the door.

“I’ll text you later,” Harry says, small.  “I love you.”

Louis pauses with his hand on the door handle, looking down at his feet.  He changes his mind about jetting out and turns on his heel, quickly walking towards Harry before grabbing him by his face and kissing the shit out of him.  Harry’s hands immediately fly to his waist as his back hits one of the lockers.

“I love you too,” Louis whispers breathily against his lips before he goes back in, sliding his tongue against Harry’s and working his hand through his curls.

One of Harry’s hands slide under Louis’ shirt and up his bare torso, making him shiver a bit from how cold they are.  Louis struggles not to whine once he hears Harry moan into the kiss, right before taking his other hand and groping Louis’ ass.

“Adore you so much,” Louis breathes, before taking Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth.  His eyes flutter shut as Harry moves to squeeze his ass with both hands, and a grunt escapes Harry’s lips once he roughly grinds his hips upward.  Having a quickie in the locker room hadn’t been the original plan, but Louis is all for it if this is what Harry wants to do.  Only a few moments before, Louis had been so sure he was about to lose this, so he needed it _now_.

His dreams are shattered when the locker room door swings open, followed by a basketball player’s head peeking into the locker room.  Harry’s hands are still partially on Louis ass, and they both look a disheveled, flustered mess.

The guy that Louis has never learned the name of immediately focuses his eyes on the floor as he speaks.  “Coach says to get your ass out here,” he says nervously.  He doesn’t wait for a response before leaving out, the door shutting behind him and bringing about silence.

Louis pulls away from Harry, his cheeks flushed as he smirks.  “Sorry.  I might’ve gotten you in trouble.”

“I’d get in the worst kind of trouble for you,” Harry says as he brings his face close to Louis’ to give him an Eskimo kiss.

“Quit being cheesy and get to practice,” Louis replies, rolling his eyes fondly.

 

~*~

Louis tries to keep it all in as he freezes his ass off where he’s stood outside of Harry’s car.  What was supposed to be “five more minutes” has clearly turned into about fifteen, and quite frankly, Louis is growing fed up.

He’s been trying his hardest not to complain or show any distaste recently, since Harry’s clearly trying his best to make time for Louis, but sometimes, it gets hard, especially since Louis is such a vocal person about stuff that bothers him.

He’s cold as hell, he feels like his gloves are doing nothing to keep his hands from getting frostbite, and he’s been ready to go for almost twenty minutes now, all the while Harry has been inside the school, doing _whatever_ it is that’s so important that he had to leave Louis out in the cold.

Louis understands; it’s a “closed arrangement”.  He guesses that the “closed” aspect applies to everyone, including boyfriends.  He just wishes Harry could at least give him his keys or something, so he wouldn’t have to worry about icicles forming on his eyelashes.

When Harry finally comes outside, he seems perfectly content with not wearing a jacket because of all the sweat he’s wearing, causing some of his strands to stick to his face.  He looks frustrated as he struggles to look for his keys in his bag.

“Sorry I took so long—“

“Why are you sweaty?  I thought it wasn’t practice, and you were just staying after to talk to some annoying people,” Louis says, unaware of how bitter he sounds until he’s already spoken.

Harry slows his steps in front of Louis, his eyebrows furrowing.  “They’re not ‘annoying people’, they’re important for my future, and—“

“Okay, I just realized I don’t care, so can we go now?” Louis asks, turning toward the passenger door.

“I’m sweating because they wanted me to show them some of my abilities,” Harry says meekly.  “And why are you being so snippy?”

Louis scoffs as he continues to wait for Harry to find his keys in his giant sports bag.  “I’ve been waiting out here for so long it feels like my feet are frozen to the ground.”

“I didn’t know it was going to take that long.  It was just ten minutes, anyway.”

“No, it was twenty.  And it’s not _just_ anything.  I don’t like to be kept waiting, you know that.”

“Okay, well,” Harry starts, finally breaking into frustration and slight irritation from the argument, as well as not finding his keys.  “I’m trying my fucking best to give you all this _quality time_ you’ve been griping about, so cut me some slack, alright?”

Griping.  Wow.

Louis laughs dryly as he rounds Harry’s car to stand in front of the boy.  He tries not to let the hurt sound too evident in his voice.  “So what am I?  Just the boy who always whines in your ear?  I’m the only one that actually wants to spend time together, is that what I’m hearing?”

Harry rubs his hand down his face once he realizes what he’s said.  “No, no—I.  I didn’t mean that.  No.  I’m just…I’m really stressed out—“

“ _I’m_ really stressed out!” Louis snaps, his eyes growing glossy.  “And all I want is to be able to lay down with someone who cares about me after pulling my hair out over all these tests and coursework, Harry!”

“You already do that with Zayn, so go do it now!  I don’t care,” Harry replies, crossing his arms like a child as he bites back tears.  “I don’t care!  You always wanna scream at me about how Zayn’s there and I’m not, so go run to him like you always do.  He’s probably waiting for you anyway.  Pathetic,” he mumbles as he moves to twist his key into the lock of the car door.

Louis tries to control his trembling bottom lip as he bunches his hands in the pockets of his jacket.  His tone comes out bitter and cold.  “You know what?  Maybe I will.”

Harry turns back to him, with something in his features that resembles slight shock, as though that was the last thing he’d ever expected Louis to say.  His eyes are watery and thick with pain as he stares at Louis.  Agonizing silence stretches between them as the harsh words linger in the air.

“Seriously?” he asks, to which Louis nods his head once.

“Seriously.”

“I’m fucking…I’m done with this, Louis,” Harry says, emotion seeping through his voice as he uses his hands to speak.  “I refuse to do this with you anymore, and I’m done.”

“Seems like you’ve been done for a while now,” Louis replies, trying his best not to expose himself to be as weak as Harry’s being right now.   He takes slow steps back, shaking his head at the whole situation and trying to remain stable.

“You’re being fucking irrational,” Harry says, his voice pained as a tear finally falls from his eyes.

“And you’re so insecure and jealous that you brought this upon yourself,” Louis says weakly, his voice cracking just a little bit.  He can’t control himself as he gets louder, more desperate, making it evident that he’s hurt and struggling not to cry.  “You can _never_ fix this, Harry!  _Never!_ ”

“You’re the one walking away,” Harry says, followed by a sniffle as Louis continues to retreat.

Louis shakes his head as he wipes the sleeve of his jacket across his eyes, his fear of leaving starting to show a bit.  It takes everything in him not to run forward and crush his boy in a hug, begging him not to do this, but he doesn’t give in.

“If you walk away…” Harry starts, trailing off.

There’s a moment of silence where Louis has stopped walking backwards, and Harry is standing there with his hands fallen by his sides, and the air between them is so thick yet so thin and mute that Louis is afraid he’ll burst along the sutures.   Louis takes in a deep breath before turning around and walking away, finally letting the tears fall.

 

 

 

 

 

{Z}

Zayn smoothes the side of his pencil over the paper in order to create just the right touch of shade under the eyelids.  He’s sat at his desk in the corner of his completely dark bedroom, save for the single lamp beaming down on his work area.  Where he would usually be doing coursework and studying until his eyes try and close, he’s partaking in his absolute favorite pastime; doodling extremely detailed and realistic eyes.    Eyes are easily one of his favorite things to draw, because it’s not difficult for him, yet so fascinating for anyone that takes a look at it.  He does it when he’s sad, feeling anxious, or when he just needs to entertain himself for a bit.

He smiles down at his white sheet that has about a dozen eyes scribbled on random areas of it, and he realizes it looks sort of creepy.  He loves it.

He allows his body to release tension and his mind to settle as he drags his pencil across paper and thinks about how the end of the semester is approaching, and all he has to do is get through the lengthy exams before he finally gets to rest.  Although he’s always been one of those who could handle all the stress school throws at him with a smile, he quite enjoys a bit of a break from time to time.  The holidays are always something to look forward to, and Zayn is excited, to be quite honest.  Then there’s also the whole New Year’s event, and then more school, and then graduation, and then…the continuation of life.

Zayn’s not too worried about what will happen after graduation.  He knows that he’ll keep in touch with his close friends no matter what.  He’s almost certain he’s going to the same uni as Niall if the boy comes to his senses and makes up his mind soon enough, and it’s no secret Louis’ choosing to hold hands with Harry and skip towards college with him.  Zayn doesn’t mind, however, because that’s Louis’ decision, but he hopes the boy knows that he’s not going to be forgotten by Zayn _that_ easily.

The serene bubble of his bedroom is busted when his door flies open, followed by Safaa and Waliyha filing in loudly.  Waliyha throws herself on his bed as Safaa comes up behind him, draping herself over his shoulders as she curiously stares down at his drawings.

“ _This_ is what you’ve been doing in here all this time?” she asks with a laugh.

Zayn nods his head, setting his pencil down because he knows he won’t get a moment to properly focus any time soon.  Waliyha hums in the background as she rests on her back and scrolls through her phone.

Safaa’s hand suddenly reaches out, and her finger points at one of the many eyes drawn on Zayn’s paper.

“What?” Zayn giggles, after she’s been just pointing at it wordlessly for a while.

“Looks like that guy you always bring here,” she says.

Zayn chuckles nervously as he swats her finger away.  “An eye looks like a guy I always bring here?  That doesn’t make any sense.”

“ _Ooh_ I think I know this one,” Waliyha says from the bed, causing Zayn to sigh as she gets up and shuffles on over to his desk.

“Yeah that’s definitely Louis’ eye,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I think I would be aware if I was sketching Louis’ eyes,” Zayn claims as he flips the paper over to the blank side.  “And what time do you guys have on your hands to be able to know Louis’ eyes so vividly?”

Safaa smiles as she flips the page back over, nearly gawking at all of Zayn’s work across the page.  “His eyes are so _pretty_.  So blue and dreamy, sometimes with a little green—“

Zayn scoffs before snatching the paper from her.  “Okay—“

“They _do_ have a hint of green, don’t they?” Waliyha asks no one in particular, before ruffling Zayn’s hair.  “No wonder you’re so gone over him.”

Zayn moves his eyes down to his lap.  “Hush…”

“It could be just like the real thing if you colored it blue,” Safaa says, reaching over to his holder full of colored pencils.  “See—“

“Nah ah ah,” Zayn says as he takes the teal colored pencil out of her hands.  “It’s better in black and white.  It’s…much more beautiful that way.”

 

~*~

“Where’s Louis?  I feel like I haven’t seen him in forever,” Niall says before popping a fry in his mouth.

Zayn tries to keep it as natural as possible as he moves things around on his lunch tray.  “Dunno.”

The silence from Niall causes Zayn to look up.

“That’s odd,” Niall says slowly, his mouth partially full.  “Usually you guys eat lunch together everyday—“

“Before Harry calls him over,” Zayn adds with a halfhearted laugh.  “But it’s fine.  We don’t…have to hang out every day.”

“Yeah.  I guess,” Niall replies.  “It’s just…weird.”

Zayn looks back down at his tray before opening his mouth to speak.  He knows that looking directly at Niall will clue the boy in on some of his insecurities, his fears.  He almost feels like he’s an open book at this point, because Niall had been aware of his feelings for Louis just by watching him look at the boy.

“He hasn’t texted me in forever.  That might be because of Harry, actually,” Zayn says, followed by another awkward chuckle.

Niall’s shaking his head before Zayn can finish his sentence.  “Nah.  I don’t think Harry would do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to control him.  Dictate what he can and can’t do,” Niall says, speaking almost passionately as though the boy is his brother.  “He’s a good guy, I tell ya.”

Zayn hums in response as he lifts his head to look over Niall’s shoulder, at the table where Harry’s sitting with all of his people, laughing, putting each other in playful headlocks, and being unbearably loud on purpose.  Louis is nowhere to be seen, which is odd all by itself, but something else seems off as well.  Harry’s arms are set on the table, and he’s completely silent, as opposed to every other time Zayn has spared a glance over at the table and found him living up to his status as a social butterfly.  It seems as though everyone is moving around him, even Liam, who continuously bumps into him as he tries to slap some guy away that’s trying to pour milk on his head, but Harry is still, and it’s obvious that he’s thinking hard about something.  Zayn doesn’t know what, and he wants to not care, but he can’t ignore how out of character it is to see him like that.

Zayn decides he doesn’t care.  He truly…doesn’t.

For a split second, Zayn contemplates marching right over and asking where Louis is, because if no one else has the answer, Harry does, but he remembers that he sort of values his life and would actually love to live and see Louis’ face another day.

He tries not to worry about Louis too much, because the boy clearly isn’t worrying about him.  It’s just that, he can’t.  That’s the thing about caring about someone, having feelings for someone, being so drawn to someone that you aren’t even sure how you got along before this random person popped up in your life.  He can’t simply _not_ _care,_ even though he knows that would be best for him, considering Louis is clearly with Harry and doesn’t—may not think of him in that way.

These are the thoughts that fill his mind as he takes one of his afternoon walks by the pond in his neighborhood.  Usually something like this would calm him down, especially as he watches his feet crush little patches of ice underneath, providing the earth with that sweet crunching sound, along with the tiny gusts of wind blowing his hair a different way.  He appreciates the beauty of it all and acknowledges its significance, but all he can think about is how he wishes he could do something like this with Louis walking by his side.  Maybe holding his hand a little.

He stuffs his hands deep in his pockets as he tries to stop himself from dwelling on whether Louis has really stopped interacting with him because of Harry.  Louis wouldn’t do that.  Louis’ a strong, self-driven, confident guy who’d never drop a friend because someone tells him to.  Zayn reminds himself to remember who he knows Louis as; to trust in his heart that Louis can do the right thing.  That Louis knows _Zayn_ is the right thing.

He simply...can’t not talk to Louis anymore.  The thought of them actually not being friends anymore, Zayn not getting to listen to his addictive laugh, not having those tutoring sessions where they forget about studying altogether because they get so lost in spending time with each other, witnessing that special fond, crinkly-eyed smile that Louis _only_ uses for him, Zayn can’t live without those things.  He’s become dependent on them, because he was so sure they’d be around for a long time.  Surely Louis knows they’ve been friends for far too long for it to end like this.

He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in, hoping Louis knows.

When he opens them, his gaze falls upon a certain, vibrant, yellow leaf on the ground.  Winter is practically in full spring, so it does take him by surprise a bit once he takes another moment to stare at it in all its distinguished glory.  It’s special; it’s different from the others, and it’s placed there, right in front of Zayn’s eyes, in order to be acknowledged.  He crouches down to the ground to pick it up with fingers that are only slightly trembling, and he holds it in his hand, examining it with careful eyes.

 

~*~

 

Zayn’s toes curl inside his boots as he waits.  Nerves try and get the best of him when he hears footsteps coming forth to answer the door, so he inhales and exhales once the doorknob starts to twist.  He looks down at his hands, the special yellow leaf twirling in his fingers.

The first thing his eyes are met with once the door is open are Louis’ slightly red ones.  A normal person can’t tell that Louis had been crying because of how very faint the redness is, but Zayn knows this boy’s eyes like the patterns on the hippie rug in his bedroom; he’s clearly in distress, and Zayn immediately senses it.

“Hi,” Louis says, tiredly.

“Hello,” Zayn replies hesitantly, shyness slowly starting to take over him.  “I…I got this for you.  It reminded me of you, for some reason, so I picked it up.”  He holds out the leaf toward Louis, who stares at it for a few seconds, seemingly in deep thought.  So much time passes that Zayn almost thinks of retreating and going back home, never to bother Louis again with his presence, but eventually the boy reaches forward, taking it from him slowly, confused.

“Thank you,” he replies, looking up at Zayn, his lips barely quirking upward for a grin.

Zayn’s voice comes out soft, almost whispered.  “What’s wrong?”

Louis shakes his head as he looks away, rubbing at his nose.  Zayn knows that’s one of his tells before he lies.  “Nothing.  I’m just…a little sick, is all.”

Zayn gives him a knowing look, intent to let the boy know he’s not buying any of it.  Louis doesn’t say anything, instead staring back at Zayn with the same, unsure, slightly tired expression.

“Wanna walk?” Zayn asks, gesturing behind him at the sidewalk.

Louis bites his bottom lip in contemplation, probably thinking about how cold it is and how he hates the cold, and then he glances down at his feet.  “Okay.”

Zayn waits for Louis to come back to the door once he’s slipped on a jacket and some shoes, and he tries not to pay too much attention to the flutter of his heart once he realizes Louis’ still holding the leaf between his two delicate fingers.

Zayn leads the way as they start on their stroll down the sidewalk, leisurely and without purpose, in comfortable silence.  Louis’ staring ahead in concentration as he walks, nearly swimming in the jean jacket he’s wearing, which is probably Harry’s.  Zayn tries not to groan at that, because he’s actually getting to spend time with Louis after what feels like an entire year—he should be grateful.  He doesn’t care that five minutes of walking have passed and neither of them have said anything, because he knows Louis isn’t ready to say whatever’s on his mind and Zayn doesn’t want to pressure him into talking.  He’s willing to wait for hours if that’s what it takes for Louis to express his emotions to him.  Zayn wouldn’t complain even a little bit if he had to walk in silence with Louis for five hours, because the boy’s presence alone means the world to him.

He glides his eyes over to stare at Louis’ profile for a moment, trying not to make it too obvious by turning his entire head.  He sighs before looking back down at his feet.

At least he’s getting to be with him.

Louis breaks the silence after a while.

“Me and Harry broke up.”

Zayn’s first response is to automatically think he’s heard wrong.  “You—you what?”

Louis huffs before repeating.  “We broke up.”

Zayn’s eyebrow quirks up momentarily as his lips remain parted.  He kicks at a rock on the ground as he furrows his eyebrows.  “Oh…oh, I’m.  Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

There’s more silence as they walk, and Zayn is completely lost on what he’s supposed to say.  He’s certain he’s supposed to be skipping down the street, singing a happy song in celebration, but he can’t.  Not with Louis looking so lost and sad.  He knows he’d be heartless to do so.

“When?” Zayn asks.

“Like, a week and a few days ago,” Louis replies.

Zayn suppresses his surprise with a simple head nod.  “Ah.”

Louis sniffs once as they continue walking, and Zayn’s not sure if he should press on the subject further.

“Do you want to talk anymore about it?”

“No.”

Zayn nods his head in understanding as they continue to walk alongside each other.  He lets a half chuckle escape his mouth before he tries to change the subject.  “I can’t believe exams are right around the corner.”

An end of Louis’ mouth quirks up a tiny bit as he glances as Zayn.  “Yeah, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about already.”

“And Ms. Haynes is always best at making exams harder than they should be, right?”

“I _know_ ,” Louis says exhaustedly, looking down at his feet as he starts to grin a little.  “Guess I’ll be living in the library for the next few days.”

Zayn touches Louis’ arm lightly with his as they walk.  “Will I be living with you?”

Louis full on smiles now, causing Zayn to smile right back, his heart swelling with sunshine.  “Yes—but _only_ if we actually get stuff done.”

Zayn gasps overdramatically.  “You act as though _I’m_ the one who always goes off task during tutoring sessions, Mr. I’d Rather Tell Knock Knock Jokes Than Actually Learn.”

Louis nods his head as he tries to bite back a laugh.  “Very creative name.  Ten out of ten, honestly.”

Zayn grins proudly from ear to ear, bringing a shy giggle out of Louis.  “We only have to suffer a little while longer before we’re finally released for the break.”

Louis sighs happily. “It’s the only thing that keeps me going.  What are your plans for the break?”

Zayn shrugs as he huffs out cold air.  “Mostly staying at home with the family during the holidays, like I always do.  I also love helping my mum bake, so I’ll probably do that.”

Louis sets a hand on his shoulder, shaking it.  “I expect cookies on my birthday then, got it?”

“A dozen it is,” Zayn replies.  “Or maybe you’d like two dozen better.”

“You know me so well.”

As they continue to talk, conversation flowing freely between both of their lips, filling Zayn with ease and hopefully providing Louis with a distraction, Zayn can’t help loving this so much.  He now knows that, no matter what, Harry won’t pop up out of nowhere and take Louis away, or Louis won’t pull his phone out of his pocket to text Harry back while Zayn is talking to him.  Louis is finally free, and now he and Zayn have all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s presence.  His boy is finally free of all the stress and emotions he carried around just because of dating Harry, which is unhealthy for a relationship in and of itself.  Hopefully, this will be the turning point where Louis realizes what he’s been missing all along and gives Zayn a chance.

God, is it bad that he really likes this?

He just really, really likes Louis.  Really.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in real life, people say things they shouldn't say, things they don't even mean, because their frustration gets the best of them. and now the one you love is hurt.
> 
> how do you feel about the whole situation?


	7. Chapter 7

 

{L}

Louis, being a person who has only ever had one boyfriend in his entire life, has come to a simple conclusion over the last few weeks.  Having an ex is weird.

He’d never even thought he’d get to experience what having an ex was like, because he was sure he and Harry were going to be a forever thing, but now that he’s experiencing it, he hates it.  Not only because he doesn’t get to be with his favorite person in the world every single day, and he misses kissing his lips and feeling that spark just like the first time, and he yearns for those big green eyes focused on him and nothing else, even as he gets approached daily by dozens of people eager to court him—exes don’t suck solely because of these reasons.  It’s also the fact that everyone surrounding him has to become aware about it, and then he has to bring it up again and act like he’s not absolutely on the verge of shattering.

Three words he could use to describe this whole ordeal, is that it’s painful, awkward, and stupid.  It’s painful, because as before mentioned, he no longer has the one person he wants in the entire universe.  It’s even worse because this person probably doesn’t even want him anymore, seeing as he hasn’t even spared a glance in this boy’s direction ever since that day on the school parking lot.  It’s awkward, because he and Harry have an entire class together, one where they sit right next to each other, and now they have to act like they don’t even see each other.  He, himself, has to look away when he sees Harry within a fifty mile radius, because he’d rather not have all the emotions hit him like a bowling ball five times a day.  Harry’s mum calling him, and then ending up having a conversation with him about he and Harry’s college plans has also been the icing on top of the awkward cake.  Having an ex is also stupid, because it just is.  The way they broke up was stupid, the reasons they broke up were stupid, Louis _is_ stupid, and Harry is as well.  If they really wanted it, they both would’ve fought for it equally as hard, but that clearly wasn’t the case.  Sure, Louis walked away, but Harry told him to.  They both gave up, and Louis’ not quite sure who to be mad at.

He always tries not to let it show on his face every time someone asks him if he’s okay, which has been about ten times a day on average.  Louis can’t act like he doesn’t know Harry is one of the most talked about guys in school, so it’s not a surprise that the news has left everyone in shock, and also with an intense sympathy for little, pathetic Louis.  He doesn’t see how it even makes sense for someone to ask him if he’s okay after a breakup; it’s not like he’s grown ill and is five seconds away from being put in a hospital bed.  It’s just a boy.  That’s all it is.  He’s broken up with a boy and now he’s broken inside and he’d love for everyone to just leave him alone about it and stop looking at him like he’s a wounded puppy.

Now he’s back to square one, he guesses.  He’s once again the boy who no one ever looked for as he sat in the hidden corner of the gym, watching the boys play basketball and being perfectly content with remaining by himself.  At least he’s not the core of all things social and annoying anymore, so that’s good.  He doesn’t actually have to worry about conversing with people he doesn’t want to, and trying to charm Harry’s teammates so they wouldn’t think Harry was dating a loser.  All of those things are stuff he doesn’t have to worry about anymore, so he should be relieved.

A downside of everything is that he’d woken up late this morning; not just a little late, but a full _hour_ and _fifteen minutes_.  Usually, Harry would’ve sent him a good morning text, and if Louis didn’t reply within thirty minutes, he would proceed to call him and wake him up, because he’d know he’d overslept.  Now, it was different however, because there were no good morning texts, and Louis had forgotten about the entire concept until he was nearly falling down the stairs and shoving a cold piece of toast into his mouth.

This is the life.

He’d taken time off from school for about a week after the happening, because he just didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself.  So much of himself had been part of Harry; as much as he hated it, the breakup brought him to realize his life was mostly centered around Harry.  He was completely clueless about how he would even begin to take footsteps in the same building as Harry, so he stayed home, mostly crying.  His mum understood and tried to help in any way she could, and Lottie provided her assistance by giving Louis slightly less snarky remarks and actually making him breakfast.

He’s spent many of his lunch periods in the library since he’s gotten back, because exams _are_ around the corner, and who needs to actually _eat_ during lunch anyway?  He doesn’t want to see Harry any more than he has to, so he’s choosing to do something productive with his time that doesn’t involve sitting in the same vicinity as the boy and being mocked by the sound of him and all his obnoxious friends as they try to make a spectacle of themselves at the lunch table.

Of course, Louis inevitably has to come head to head with the breakup, and this happens on the first day he doesn’t skip the class he has with Harry, and actually walks into the room.  Thankfully, he’s not late to the class, so he hasn’t attracted the attention of _all_ the eyes; probably just about ten of them.  Students are still filing into the class and having animated conversations with each other, so Louis tries not to make his entrance too dramatic.

There Harry is, staring blankly at his notebook as he flips the pages of it, which are also blank, and for the first time, he looks _different_.  Louis doesn’t know why them simply not being together causes him to look different, but it does.  He almost seems…unapproachable, which is ridiculous because Louis knows that boy all too well for the adorable dork he is.

He reminds himself not to get sappy about his ex boyfriend as he drags his feet toward the back of the room.

Now’s the time to make a decision.  Either he’s going to be publicly bitter and sit somewhere else, or he’s going to man up and sit next to Harry, which will result in a horribly awkward situation.  He chooses the latter.

Harry doesn’t even glance at him once as Louis slips into his seat, and once Louis has set his backpack down and gotten out his notes for the class, he immediately brings his fingers to his mouth and starts chewing on his pinky nail.  It’s a thing he does when he’s nervous that he’s not too proud of, and at the moment, he’s not even aware he’s doing it.

They receive a few curious or amused looks from classmates as everyone finally gets settled in their seats, but Louis ignores it as best he can.

Louis’ extremely lucky that this isn’t one of those days where Mr. Fages tells them to work with people around them; all he does is lecture for the entire period, which would usually make Louis annoyed and sleepy.

Still, the fact that Harry doesn’t spare him attention even once hurts a little.  Louis even risked a few millisecond side glances his way from time to time, because who wouldn’t?  That’s his fucking Hazza that he’s loved since freshman year.

It’s obvious it’s not the same for Harry, because he seems like he couldn’t be more unbothered.  It’s just like old times, when Louis used to watch him from afar, and Harry didn’t even know he existed.  Louis would love to go back to those parts of their lives, so he wouldn’t have to feel this much pain from everything that’s happened since then, and all he could feel was a tiny crush for a cute jock.

When there are two more minutes left in class and Mr. Fages has stopped talking, Louis busies himself by putting his things back into his backpack and maybe hoping that Harry would at least say one thing to him instead of looking so _unaffected_.  It fucking sucks, the fact that Harry appears so indifferent right now.  As the irritability builds up inside of Louis, he soon finds himself biting down on his bottom lip increasingly hard, trying his best to hold back tears.  He won’t cry right in the middle of class.  He _won’t_.

He rubs at his suddenly itchy eye as one boy skips over to ask Harry about something that has to with stats for famous basketball players, or whatever the fuck.  His eyes start to sting at the mere sound of Harry’s voice, the silky, deep flow of words from between his pink, soft lips that he used to kiss Louis with.

As soon as the bell rings, Louis is out of his seat just a little too fast, and makes for the door.  Instead of going to his next class, he finds the bathroom, because he knows there’s no way he can go and sit in front of people for another second without bursting into tears.  He swings the restroom door open and immediately stalks toward the row of mirrors.

He stares at himself for a moment.  It doesn’t look like he’s about to cry, so that’s good.

His lips quiver just a bit as he continues to lock eyes with himself in the mirror, and he promises himself he won’t cry.  He won’t let Harry get one over on him by crying.  Louis _hates_ crying.  He won’t cry.

Sure, Harry is the first and only love of his life, and now he’s acting like he’s never even spoken to Louis  before, and sure, it hurts like a needle slowly piercing its way through the center of his chest and out through his back, but he’s going to have to deal with it.

They were supposed to have a future together; they planned to go to _college_ together, because it all seemed so certain, damn it.  Louis can’t ever imagine himself loving anyone else as deeply and madly as he loves Harry.

Louis tells himself its okay as he slowly nods at his reflection.  He will get through this.  People go through this sort of thing every day, and they eventually get over it, so there’s no reason that he shouldn’t.

It’s just that he now feels like he’s wasted two years of his life.  Two years of struggle, pure bliss, emotional roller coasters, and sheer fucking _love_ that he can never get back.  He’s going to have to learn from this, because never again will he allow any other boy to waste his time.  Never again will he let a pretty boy lure him in and break his heart.  Never.  Again.

At that moment, the door bursts open, and Louis holds his breath and hopes he doesn’t look too weird, just standing in front of the mirror.  He turns his head to see who it is that’s just entered, to find that it’s Liam.

The boy looks up for half a second as he jogs over to the nearest sink and begins trying to scrub something off of his jersey, which he is holding in his hands.  Louis doesn’t even want to question it.

“Hey,” Louis says, small, because he’s talked to Liam many times and it would just be weird if he didn’t say anything, wouldn’t it?

Liam grins his way for a moment and nods in response, which causes Louis to knit his eyebrows together in puzzlement as he continues to listen to the sounds of the faucet running.

“What, so you can’t talk to me now that me and Harry aren’t together?”

Liam pauses his scrubbing to finally look at Louis properly, and his eyes are a hint apologetic, just like most of the eyes Louis has had the pleasure of staring into these days.

“I don’t feel like I can,” Liam says sadly.  “Harry’s just really hurt, so I’m trying to follow the bro code, or something like that.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at that, even though he doesn’t say anything, because 1) bro code?  Yet another ridiculous thing to add to the list of ridiculous things Harry’s friends have said, and 2) _Harry’s_ hurt?  Seriously?  After the fact that it was almost entirely _his_ fault that Louis even got the courage to walk away?

How does that even work?  Harry does every possible thing to drive Louis away, and when Louis finally leaves, Harry’s the one that’s all hurt and victimized.  Louis was the butt of _every single_ problem they had, and Harry has the audacity to play the one who’s hurt, and order his friends not to talk to Louis.  Louis finds that interesting, if he’s being honest.

He’s trying his best not to be one of those bitter exes, but Harry’s making this really hard.

 

~*~

 

Louis’ in his own car for once, which is something he realizes is new as well.  He drives his car a lot, but it’s now quite apparent that he used to ride around with Harry more often than not.

He sits in the driver’s seat once he twists the ignition, and he waits for the vehicle to warm up as he remains in the school parking lot.  He can see all the familiar faces of people he only knows because he was in a relationship with Harry, and that he will now probably never talk to because of his sudden irrelevance.  He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that some people probably could care less about him now that he’s not linked to Harry anymore.

He can see Harry from where he’s sitting in his car, but he’s far enough that there’s no way Harry could see him.  He’s sat on the hood of his car, which is surrounded by eager looking girls, and even some guys, who anyone could tell were trying their hand at him.  Louis tries not to let his disgust show too much on his face, even though he’s alone in his own car.  Again, he doesn’t want to be bitter.

But still, the fact that Harry’s even sitting there indulging in them, _responding_ to them, makes Louis sick to his stomach.  He has no idea why the girls are even trying anyway, as though just because Harry dated girls before Louis, he’ll go back to dating one now.  Only Louis knows how completely turned off by girls Harry is, and the thought makes him amused as well as annoyed by the sight in front of him.  As for the guys throwing subtle comments Harry’s way, Louis just hopes they know that Harry will compare all of them to Louis, and from where Louis is watching, none of them are even half as appealing as Louis naturally is.  It’s not their faults, however, but Louis hopes they will realize in time that what they’re attempting is pointless.

Louis’ abruptly brought out of his thoughts when someone knocks on his window.  He turns his head to the side to find Niall, still eagerly knocking and waving with his gloved hands.  Louis sighs before pushing the button to roll down the window.

“Hey, Louis!” Niall says once the window is down.

“Hi,” Louis replies, plastering a fake grin on his face.  “What’s up?”

“I was just watching you mope in your car.”

Louis genuinely grins as he looks down at his lap.  “Is that so?”

“Yep.  Moping isn’t good for your health,” Niall says.

“Good to know.  So did you stop by to be a cliché and tell me to smile?”

Niall chuckles as he shakes his head.  “No, but you _should_ consider that.  Me and some friends are going out bowling tomorrow night, and I wanted to ask if you’d wanna come.”

Louis’ shaking his head before the end of the boy’s sentence.  “Sorry, Niall.  I can’t—“

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Niall urges.  “Why not?”

Louis speaks hesitantly as he watches Niall’s falling face.  “I’m…I’m not really into social gatherings and stuff—never was, actually.  The last thing I wanna do right now is go bowling.  I’m sad.”

Niall purses his lips as he nods and tries to understand.  “Are you sure?  This could probably take your mind off things.”

“I don’t know—“

“At least think about it,” Niall suggests, his eyes pleading.

Louis has no idea why the boy wants him to go so bad, but he does hate to see him so desperate and sad for him, so Louis will at _least_ grant him a night of thinking on it.

“Okay.  I’ll think about it,” Louis says, immediately bringing a smile out of Niall.

Niall flashes him two thumbs up.  “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Somehow, through some perplexing shift in the universe’s natural way of things, Louis finds himself outside of the bowling alley the next night, which is odd, because he’s never liked bowling, especially in the winter, and he also didn’t even want to come.

In fact, he probably wouldn’t have ever come if Zayn hadn’t texted him and asked if he was going, because Niall had apparently invited him too.  Louis had responded with a simple “no” at first, and then Zayn told Louis he would go if Louis went, and somehow that gave Louis the push to actually get off of his disgusting bed and go.  Zayn could truly turn any bad experience into an enjoyable one, so Louis figured he’d have a good time.

The first pair of eyes he’s met with once he’s got his tight bowling shoes on and is finally making his way over to Niall and his friends Louis has never spoken to, are Zayn’s.  The boy immediately brightens at the fact that Louis is there, because he was probably starting to grow worried that he wouldn’t even show up.

Before Louis can even reach Zayn, he’s intercepted by Niall and two of his friends, who immediately greet him and assure him that everything’s going to be okay, as if they automatically could sense the depressing breakup aura Louis had dragged into the room.

He sits next to Zayn on one of the benches as they watch the boys roll the bowling balls down the alleys.

“Thought you wouldn’t come,” Zayn says quietly, a grin on his face.

“You know me.  Always late,” Louis replies with a giggle as he touches his knee to Zayn’s.

Zayn reaches out a hand to touch at the blue and purple windbreaker Louis’ got on.  “I like this.  It matches the ambience of this place.”

“You mean the dark blue, red, and green lights that make it extremely hard to see anything in here?  I love that,” Louis says sarcastically, causing Zayn to laugh and shove him lightly.

“I think it’s cool, seeing your face in green lighting,” Zayn replies.

“My face looks cool in any lighting, thank you very much.”

“You’re not wrong,” Zayn agrees, reaching out and pinching Louis’ cheek, causing him to playfully push him away.

Louis faces toward the alleys again.  “So how does this work?  Do I just pick up a ball and throw it toward the pins or something?”

“You mean _roll_ it.”

“You know what I meant!”

“You go after Greg,” Zayn says, setting his hand on Louis’ knee.  “I can help you if you want.  I actually know how to do this.”

Zayn keeps his word when Louis finally gets up for his turn, and he guides him on which fingers he’s supposed to put in the hole of the bowling ball, as well as where he’s supposed to stand.

Louis giggles when the heaviness of the bowling ball nearly sends him to the ground.  “This is impossible.  If I’m not even strong enough to hold it, where am I supposed to get the energy to roll it?”

Zayn laughs shyly as he touches Louis’ shoulders and guides him exactly to where he needs to be stood.  “It’s all about what position you’re in,” he says, moving Louis’ shoulders in order to lean him forward a bit.  Louis keeps his eyes glued to the eight pins at the end of the alley, wondering how exactly he’s going to manage to knock them all over in one go.

“You wanna square your hips, like this,” Louis hears Zayn say, before he feels gentle hands on his hips, guiding him into position.  The contact slips Louis out of his concentrated state for a moment, and he glances down at where Zayn’s fingers are faintly rested on his hips.

“I usually take three or four steps before I release the ball,” Zayn continues, and Louis notices that he’s gotten noticeably quieter, but it’s only because he’s so close to Louis that he doesn’t have to project his voice.  “It’s sort of like starting position when someone’s running track.”

Louis’ mouth releases a slow exhale when he feels Zayn’s fingers stroke over the material of his jacket momentarily.  He tries to ignore it; tries to refocus himself on the straining feeling of the heavy bowling ball in his hand, the faint sound of some current pop song playing in all of the speakers surrounding them, his tight bowling shoes that have been bothering him since he got here.

Once he’s convinced he’s completely refocused, he swallows once before responding to what Zayn said.  “It is?”

Zayn brings his mouth right up to Louis’ ear, his voice more quiet and soothing than it’s ever been, and _that’s_ saying a lot.  “Yep.  Now are you ready to try it by yourself, Lou?”

Louis tries not to let out a giggle at the way Zayn’s whisper is tickling his ear.  “I guess.  You should help me roll the ball.”

He feels Zayn’s hands slip off of his hips as he backs away from Louis.  The upsetting loss of contact causes Louis to turn around, just in time to find the boy shaking his head fondly.  “It doesn’t work that way.  You have to gain the momentum yourself.”

Louis rolls his eyes as he turns back around, already knowing how this is going to end up.  He positions the heavy ball in his hands, before setting it near the ground and attempting to actually launch it, which turns out to be a fruitless attempt as the ball immediately rolls over to the side and misses the pins completely.

He stands up straight and blinks at the bowling ball of failure as it continues to roll down, and eventually, the obnoxious laughter from everyone behind him causes him to turn around.  Even Zayn is trying his best not to chuckle as he holds his hands to his mouth, his shoulders faintly shaking as his eyes glisten.

After a moment, Louis can’t help but laugh as well, because if he’s being honest, he hadn’t genuinely listened to a single instruction Zayn gave him.  He brought this upon himself.  It’s just that Zayn was touching him, and it brought Louis to realize that he hadn’t been touched in a while, which threw him off balance for a moment or two.

Zayn sets two hands on Louis’ shoulders as he steps in front of him.  “At least you tried.”

Louis tries to sigh sadly, even though the fond grin on his face reveals that he’s not as down as he should be.  “How will I ever escape such embarrassment?”

Zayn moves one of his hands up to the back of Louis’ neck, stroking his thumb absentmindedly as he replies.  “I’ll buy you anything from the snack line.  Whatever you want.”

Louis nods his head.  “You failed me as a bowling teacher, so I agree.”

Zayn laughs as he takes Louis’ wrist and pulls him over to the booth where numerous drinks, unhealthy treats, and loaded foods are being sold.

Zayn ends up purchasing one large piña colada for the both of them to drink upon realizing it would cost more to get two small ones.  Louis doesn’t complain at all as he sits down at one of the tables with Zayn and sticks two straws in the fruity drink.

Louis takes a long sip out of the beverage before speaking.  “I can honestly say that this is the highlight of the whole night.”

Zayn flutters his eyelashes humorously as he takes a large gulp from his straw.  “Well, I must say, I am flattered.”

Louis blinks at him.  “This still makes you the worst bowling instructor in all of history.  I hope you know that.”

“You failed completely on your own,” Zayn replies.  “It was almost as if you hadn’t even listened to anything I said.”

Louis avoids offering a response by sucking on his straw again, not being too eager to admit that he’s been so lonely and miserable that a measly hand on his hip got him distracted and maybe even excited.  He’s pretty sure he’s the most embarrassing person on planet earth right now.

Greg joins them at the table after a while when they’re giggling together about some girl being even more horrible at bowling than Louis.  He slaps his plate of nachos down on the table as he sits down, smiling at them.

“So cute, you two,” he says, before stuffing his face with nachos.

Louis pauses with his fingers on his straw, blinking at Greg.  “What are you talking about?”

“Your little flirtationship,” he says, pointing at the two of them as though it should be obvious.

Louis immediately looks down at his lap, and he hears Zayn chuckle in a way that never fails to let Louis know he’s nervous.

“We’re not…what?” Zayn says, followed by more fake laughing.  “ _No_ flirting going on here, buddy.”

Louis nods his head in agreement, turning to look at a flustered Zayn, and then letting his eyes settle back on Greg.  “Yeah, none of that, okay?”

Greg suddenly looks like he’s been wrongfully snapped on, and he puts both hands up in innocence.  “I was just kidding.  Don’t shoot me.”

“Whatever,” Louis replies as he takes his straw back in between his lips, his eyes fluttering toward Zayn.  The boy now looks a bit deflated, and Louis wonders if he’s said something wrong as the boy plays with the pads of his fingers on top of the table.

Louis softly taps his feet against Zayn’s under the table, causing him to look up.  “Do you wanna leave?  I’ll leave with you.  We can do something fun?”

Zayn’s usually quiet when he speaks, but there’s something in his voice that seems just a little weaker to Louis.  He can barely even look directly at him when he responds.  “I thought this _was_ fun…uh, drinking this, together.”

Louis makes a show of lifting the giant cup in the air, shaking it around and revealing it to be mostly empty.  “ _This_ fun has clearly almost run out,” he says, causing Zayn to let loose and laugh.  He reaches for Zayn’s hand.  “Let’s go.”

They end up in Zayn’s car, Louis demanding Zayn to play him all of his favorite CD’s after being fascinated that a human in the modern day even has so many CD’s in his possession.  They talk quietly over the sound of a Tame Impala album that Zayn claims is one of his current favorites, the car finally starting to heat up.

“It’s like every time we hang out, I find out more about how you’re cooler than me,” Louis says as he flips through the stack of CD’s in his hands.  “It’s like you keep so much of yourself hidden.”

“Well, it’s not that…” Zayn starts, biting on his lip in concentration.  “I just don’t like talking about myself that much.”

Louis glances up at him, setting the CD’s on the dashboard.  “What _do_ you like talking about, then?”

“You,” Zayn replies, his elbow leaned on his arm rest as he confidently stares at Louis.

Louis feels himself blushing and he touches his cheeks, looking out of the window and eventually back at Zayn.  “Me?”

Zayn nods, his eyes sleepy and almost hypnotizing as Louis stares back at them in the dimness of his car.

“But I’m not interesting…”

Zayn’s lips part for a moment as he starts to trace his fingers over the sleeve of his jean jacket.  “You are.  It actually, uh”—he laughs lightly—“bothers me that you don’t know that.  That someone hasn’t shown you that you actually _are_ quite interesting.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek as he watches Zayn focus on his jacket.  “Well…you’re interesting too.  You’re weird, and there’s so much about you that nobody knows.  We’re best friends and you _still_ surprise me sometimes.”

“How?” Zayn asks, tearing his eyes away from his jacket to look at Louis.

“Tonight, when you…tried to help me,” Louis starts, his voice low and hesitant.  He doesn’t even know why he’s speaking, or what provoked him to do such a thing, but he can’t stop now.

Zayn leans his body toward Louis a bit more.  “When I failed as a bowling instructor?”

Louis smirks as he recalls the night as well.  “That too, but,” he starts, immediately closing his mouth upon realizing what he’s about to say.  He figures there must’ve been something in that piña colada, because he’s more determined than ever to embarrass himself for no apparent reason.  “Um…never mind.”

“Was it when I touched you?” Zayn asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks at Louis with innocence all over his face.

Louis shifts in his seat, not expecting him to pick up on it as easily as he did.  Now he can’t help but wonder if he’d been _that_ obvious.

Zayn starts speaking rapidly once Louis stays silent for long enough.  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just—“

“No, it’s okay,” Louis says.  “It just surprised me, is all.”

“Good,” Zayn replies, one side of his lips curving upward as he stares down at his hands.  “Because I love touching you.”

Louis’ not sure why he clears his throat at that moment, or why he swallows and shifts around some more in his seat as he sits there with Zayn.  It suddenly feels like the atmosphere of the vehicle has been changed, but as much as Louis is fidgeting, he feels like he’s in favor of wherever it’s heading.

Zayn lifts his hand slowly, clearly planning out each of his maneuvers as he moves to settle it on the side of Louis’ neck.  Louis remains perfectly still, and doesn’t move his eyes anywhere other than Zayn’s captivating, chestnut ones.

“You’re beautiful,” Zayn whispers, practically _breathes_ as he strokes Louis’ skin.

Louis sets his hand over Zayn’s, and the boy looks weary that Louis’ going to remove it before he realizes that Louis is just placing it there.  “Thank you,” Louis says quietly, more small than he’s ever even heard himself.

Zayn closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath, as though preparing himself for something.  “I really want to kiss you right now.  I’m so fucking sorry if this ruins everything, but if you could give me a sign—“

Louis takes the initiative to close the space between them, and Zayn meets him halfway as their lips join in a kiss that immediately starts off full of heat.  Their teeth clash together for the first few seconds, because they’re both excited and Zayn is clearly thrown off a bit, but they quickly fall into perfect rhythm as Zayn cards his fingers through Louis’ hair and kisses him with a passion Louis didn’t even know he had.  Louis kisses him back with the same urgency, nearly on his knees as he leans over the armrest to wrap his arms around the boy’s neck.  The boy who suddenly seems so incredibly irresistible that Louis might burst out of his pants.

Zayn moans into the kiss when Louis brushes his tongue into his mouth, and it only motivates Louis to deepen the kiss.  He tastes Zayn for the first time as he moves his hands under the boy’s jacket, feeling the warmth of his body through his t-shirt as he continues to make desperate noises.  He curves his arms around Zayn’s back, pulling him in and nearly falling back on his seat, taking Zayn with him.

Zayn leans over him in the seat and pants against his lips as he holds Louis’ face in both hands, and there’s a moment; one where they’re both holding eachother’s gaze with hungry eyes, contemplating whether they should come to terms with what is happening or not—and then Zayn is diving right back in again and pressing their lips together, filling Louis with such an intense desire for being touched by another person, being _kissed_ like he matters again.  An intense desire for _Zayn_.

Even if Louis hadn’t ever imagined he’d be kissing Zayn, he feels like their first kiss still would’ve been gentle and sweet, because that’s how they always treat each other, but now, Louis is nearly breaking his arm trying to get his own jacket off as he feels Zayn’s tongue down his throat, and he’s loving every fucking second of it.  Funny how things work out.

He grips at Zayn’s thighs as he plants a wet kiss on the corner of his lips, and then proceeds to suck on his jaw.  Zayn lets out one of those shy, desperate sounds that Louis’ realized is quickly becoming his new obsession.

Louis feels like he’s smacked back to life once he finds himself toying with the string on Zayn’s trackies.  His lips, that are currently on Zayn’s neck, abruptly pop off of his skin, and he looks down at his hands, where they’re now still, positioned at the front of Zayn’s pants.

“What?” Zayn breathes.  “Are you okay?  Did I go too far?”

Louis shakes his head, now looking up at Zayn, whose hair is a wild mess as he looks down at Louis with dazed, dreamy eyes.  Everything inside of Louis is screaming at him to pull the boy back down and snog the shit out of his stupid, objectively attractive face, but he suppresses it, instead moving to slip back on his jacket.  “No, it’s…It’s not you.  I just…” Louis starts, his own heart breaking at the sight of Zayn slowly falling apart.  His once bright eyes even appear to be curving downward, resembling a sad cartoon.

“Zayn, it’s not you,” Louis says sternly as Zayn falls back into his seat, the light in his brown eyes fully dimmed out.  “I just can’t right now.”  He stares at his lap with knit eyebrows, and then back at Zayn, trying to figure out what exactly is going on.  He knows he’s talking more to himself, even as he faces Zayn.  “I can’t.”

 

 

 

 

{Z}

It’s been five days.

Five days since Louis had let Zayn into his world and made his heart do weird things he didn’t even know it could do.  Five days since he’d finally quieted his fears and went for what he knew he wanted.  Five days since Zayn felt like he was dangerously close to passing out because of the sudden rush of it all.  Five days since Zayn came head to head with the fact that he was quite in love with the boy.

Five days since he’d last spoken to Louis.

That night is the only thing Zayn can think about as he’s taking one of his last exams.  Ten minutes have passed since the test began, and he’s only on question five, because he keeps not paying attention to the question and having to start over.  He’s aware that this is horrible in terms of how he’ll probably do on these exams, and that he should be more alarmed about it than he actually is, but he can’t bring himself to care when he’s so full of love and pure _elation_.

Louis _kissed_ him.  They _kissed_.  It’s the one thing Zayn had been waiting eons for, and he didn’t even have to initiate it, because Louis dove right in.  The memory of Louis leaning in alone is enough to make up for any angst he’d gone through in his long journey of pining for the boy.

As cliché as it sounds, the kiss was indeed, everything Zayn had imagined.  It surprised him though, the way they quickly slipped past hesitantly soft pecks and fell into a passionate, heated lip lock.  It showed Zayn that maybe Louis had been waiting for this as long as he had.

The only reason Zayn isn’t throwing his exam in his teacher’s face and running off to go sweep Louis off his feet is because of what happened _after_ the kiss.  Louis had seemed so eager just seconds before, and suddenly Zayn could see nothing but fear in his eyes.  Zayn would _never_ make Louis do something he didn’t want to do, so he was glad the boy stopped it when he did, but he just hoped it wasn’t because he was thinking of what Harry might do.  He trusts that the boy is past feeling bad about involving himself with Zayn because of Harry, and that he’s actively freeing himself of all the toxic attachments to him.

His eyes scan over question number six on his paper as he thinks about how Louis’ lips slipped in between his, and his mind went _it’s happening, finally, finally_ , and all he could feel was adrenaline as the boy latched onto him with his graceful hands.  The last time Zayn kissed a person was quite a while ago, and that person was Niall, three years before during a kickback that he had somehow gotten dragged to, resulting in a slightly tipsy Zayn that started to find Niall more attractive than usual.  Long story short, everyone chanted for them to do it, and Niall was always up for a challenge, but it was _nothing_ like his night with Louis; Zayn barely even remembers it.  Louis’ stuttered breaths as he slipped his hands under Zayn’s jean jacket and pulled him closer is something Zayn is _always_ going to remember, no matter how many seasons, years, _decades_ come to pass.  The kiss only confirmed what he’s known in his heart all along; this is how it’s supposed to be.

All he has to do is cross his fingers and hope Louis realizes that this is what he’s wanted all along— _not_ Harry.

Zayn rests the eraser of his pencil against his temple as he struggles to concentrate on the exam paper in front of him, but he simply can’t.  He’s torn between the two conflicting emotions of pure bliss, and mild heartbreak.  He’s not going to dwell on the fact that Louis broke the kiss however, because it’s probably normal for someone who’s just gotten through a breakup to have doubts about what they want.  Zayn fully understands, and will never get angry at Louis for starting things with him he won’t finish.  He just needs time, Zayn knows it, and he’ll slowly come loose.

He eventually wills his mind to focus on the task at hand, promising himself that he’ll have all the time in the world to think about Louis later, _after_ he’s aced his exam.  He ends up marking his last answer just as the bell is ringing, and he can’t help but feel like all is working out in his favor these days.

On his last exam day, he’s aware he still hasn’t spoken or seen Louis in a while, but he keeps hope that the boy will catch him before the end of the day and at least wish him a nice break.  His medium-sized ball of hope dwindles as the day nears its end, and when the final bell rings to dismiss the students for the day, he tries not to let it sadden him too much.  Louis just needs time, and that’s okay.

Zayn’s at his locker, pulling out some of the textbooks he’ll need over the break in case he wants to get more studying in, and one glance in the direction of Louis’ locker makes Zayn’s heart beat at an alarmingly faster pace.  Louis is _there_ , and he doesn’t seem like he’s in a completely horrible state from what happened.  Zayn isn’t nearly as close as he needs to be in order to get a good feel of what kind of aura Louis is putting off.  He decides against approaching Louis in order to respect his boundaries; if the boy sees him, he’ll choose if he wants to come and talk to Zayn or not.

Zayn’s lips part in surprise when Louis seems to be choosing the latter, because now his feet are surely leading him Zayn’s way.  Zayn busies himself by absentmindedly flipping through one of his random notes, his nerves suddenly tripling in size.  He wipes his right hand on the sleeve of his sweater, just in case it’s sweaty, and proceeds to reposition his glasses over his eyes for no apparent reason.  He despises how easily Louis can turn him into a melting puddle of feelings and mush.

“Zayn,” he hears from his side, and he turns to the voice as though he hadn’t seen the boy coming.  Louis shoves his hands in the pockets of his joggers, slowing his steps as he approaches the boy.

“Louis,” Zayn replies, grinning shyly.  He swallows and tries to regain his composure as he shuts his locker.  “I didn’t…I haven’t seen you all week,” he says lowly, absentmindedly stretching out the sleeves of his sweater.

There’s a definite amount of space between them, because Zayn is keeping his distance in order to not overstep any limits Louis isn’t comfortable with.

Louis looks down at his feet as he rocks back and forth on his heels.  “I’ve just been keeping low, and stuff…”

“Yeah, that’s….yeah,” Zayn replies, followed by a faint wince at his own horrible social skills.

More than anything, Zayn wants to stab this horrible bubble of awkwardness around them and just take the steps needed in order to wrap his hands around the boy’s waist and pull him in.  He doesn’t want any of this to be uncomfortable for him, but now it seems like the boy is just as nervous as Zayn is; which is a _lot_.

“Um…” Louis starts, scratching at the back of his neck.  “You can come over later if you want, and we can hang out, or something.  Order a pizza, and uh, watch T.V., maybe,” he says, nearly stumbling over his words as Zayn stands there, his mouth slightly open.

It takes a few seconds for Zayn to realize nothing’s come out of his open mouth.  He nods his head a few times before speaking.  “Yeah, totally,”—since _when_ does he use the word ‘totally’—“sounds fun.  I’ll be there,” Zayn says.  “I just have to—yeah, I’ll be there later.”

A hesitant smile slowly makes its way onto Louis’ face as he nods along with Zayn.  “Cool.  Coolio.”  He shakes his head at himself before starting to retreat.  “So I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yep,” Zayn nods, raising a weak hand to wave the boy goodbye.  Louis tips his head at him, and then he turns around and continues toward the exit, and Zayn’s pretty sure his feet are glued to the ground with fear of the unknown.

Eventually, Zayn _does_ manage to get his feet to move, because he realizes that if he stays in the same spot, he’ll never get to Louis’ house later.  His nerves and contained excitement haven’t faded even a little when he’s walking up Louis’ driveway later on that day, just as the sun is going down.

He examines the Christmas decorations they already have put up, which are minimal—a tiny Saint Nick is sitting by one of the steps toward the door, and what looks like poinsettias hanging on the front of the door.  It eases Zayn a bit as he lets his shoulders loose and pushes to ring the doorbell.

Zayn isn’t expecting the first face he sees to be Louis’ mum once the door opens.  His eyes widen briefly before he remembers to grin and be cordial.

“Hello, Ms. Tomlinson,” he greets, accepting her hug once she holds her arms out.

“Zayn, I’m so glad to have you here,” she says excitedly, bracing her hand on his arm as she motions him inside.  “Haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

“Yeah,” Zayn replies as he closes the door behind himself.  “Louis was closed off for a bit, but now we’re hanging out again.”  He narrows his eyes at himself briefly, realizing that maybe he’s shared too much.

Ms. Tomlinson just looks at him knowingly, still running her hand up and down his arm in a motherly manner.  “I know it’s been really hard for him lately,” she says softly, looking away for a moment.  “I hate seeing him this way.”

“You and me both.”

She brings her eyes back to Zayn, and they start to crinkle as she smiles widely.  “Thank you.  Thank you for always trying to reach out to him and help.  Louis’ told me how much you mean to him.  You’re something special, Zayn.  Really.”

Zayn grins bashfully as he shuffles on his feet, not knowing how to handle all of these kind words.  “I’m just being a good friend, is all.”

“Continue being that amazing friend.  Please,” she says quietly, almost pleadingly.  “Louis needs it.”  She leans in to place a brief kiss on Zayn’s forehead that leaves him feeling warm and homely.

In the moment, it almost feels like this is all real; like he’s actually a part of this.  He’s getting to meet the family, right before going upstairs to spend time with his amazing boyfriend, and maybe Louis’ mum will invite him over for Christmas, and maybe Lottie will tease him about how she’s going to be his sister-in-law, and…it all seems so _possible_.

“Mum, please stop holding him hostage,” Louis says upon jogging down the stairs.

She gasps overdramatically as Louis comes over to grab Zayn’s wrist and pull him toward the stairs.  “We were just talking!”

Zayn giggles as he follows Louis up the stairs, and once he enters his room, he remembers just how long it’s been since he’s last been in here.  The lack of visits to Louis’ room is obviously the fault of one particular person—a person that he will _not_ name in order to fully relish in this moment of quality time he’s finally getting with Louis.

“Looks like you’ve tidied up a bit,” Zayn says as he shrugs his jacket off.

Louis hops on his bed as he reaches for the remote on his drawer to turn the television on.  “I had way too much time on my hands, what with skipping school for a week and all.”

Zayn laughs as he toes off his shoes and settles himself on the bed with Louis, keeping a respectful distance.  “So…” he starts, quickly realizing he has no intention of saying anything useful.  He doesn’t know if they’re ever going to talk about _it_ , and quite frankly, he’s not sure if he even wants to.

“So…” Louis echoes, pulling his knees up to his chest and breathing a tad bit more uncontrolled.

Zayn feels like they’ve never been on the same page before as much as they are now.  They both have absolutely no idea what they’re doing, and it feels like one wrong move or touch will cause everything to either shatter or come together.

“What kind of pizza do you want?” Louis asks, creating a diversion by reaching for his phone.

Zayn huffs out half of a laugh before speaking.  “Um…I don’t know.  Aren’t there really only three options?  Pepperoni, sausage, cheese?”

Louis quirks an eyebrow up at him as he grins fondly.  “Only if you’re playing it safe.”

Zayn smirks as scrunches his fingers in the bed sheets.  “Let’s get pineapple on it then.”

Louis smirks right back at him as he begins typing out the number on his phone.  “I also heard that this place I’m calling puts macaroni and cheese as a topping if you ask.”

“Macaroni and pineapple pizza it is, then,” Zayn says amusedly.

Louis laughs wholeheartedly as he places the phone by his ear.  “We’ll order a normal pepperoni and sausage too, just in case this turns out to be a horrible mistake.”

“Agreed,” Zayn nods.

Conversation surprisingly starts to flow easily between them once they watch television and wait for the pizza to arrive.  Zayn doesn’t even realize he’s finally letting loose and getting more comfortable until it’s already happened, and he’s rolling on his stomach, almost paralyzed with laughter because of a comment Louis made about one of the contestants on the singing show they were watching.

The pizza gets there, and they eat between giggles, unable to keep from piggybacking off of what the other has said.

“Why didn’t I try macaroni as a topping sooner?” Louis asks, his mouth full.

Zayn shrugs as he sprinkles parmesan all over one of the slices.  “And you wouldn’t have even tried it if I hadn’t suggested pineapple.”

“Are you trying to say I’m boring, Malik?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows.

Zayn smirks teasingly as he chews on a slice.  “Well…without me you’re just—“

Louis throws a balled up napkin that hits him right in the face, causing him to laugh and slap it away.  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughs, nudging Louis in the knee with his sock.  “I know you’re not boring.  I said you’re the most interesting person I’ve met, remember?”

“Most interesting person you’ve met?” Louis asks, slightly surprised.  “You didn’t say all _that_.”

Zayn softens as he shrugs his shoulders, grinning at Louis unabashedly.  “Well, I should’ve.  It’s true.”

“You’re far too flattering,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes. He gestures at himself, looking at Zayn pointedly.  “Look at me, I talk with my mouth full, I pulled these sweats off of the floor, my hair is probably greasy too.  I’m disgusting.  Not interesting.”

Zayn is laughing all the way through Louis’ self demeaning speech, and Louis starts to giggle too once he’s finished speaking.  “What if I find those things interesting?”

“I’m not surprised you find greasy hair interesting,” Louis laughs, before taking another bite of pizza.  “Weirdo.”

“You love my weirdness.”

“You’re right.”

Their eyes linger on each other for a moment, or a little longer than a moment, and then Louis sucks in a breath and directs his attention to some guy singing on the television.  “Dear god that’s awful.”

Zayn forces out a chuckle as his body transitions back into a state of nervousness.  The line of what to say vs what not to say is so blurry now, and Zayn hates it.  As time passes, it seems that Louis is growing more unsure than he already seemed, because he starts to look at Zayn for a beat longer than normal, and then he quickly averts his attention somewhere else.

Even when they’re done eating, the uncertainty persists.  Zayn tries to act as natural as possible, but he knows there’s something stirring within Louis that he doesn’t know how to deal with.  Zayn just wants to let him know that it’s okay, that he understands all that’s conflicting the boy right now.

When Louis excuses himself to go to the bathroom, Zayn is definitely aware that something’s wrong.  He’s nearly straining his neck from where he’s sat on the bed, in order to get a sense of what he’s doing in bathroom, and it sounds a little like he’s splashing his face with water.

Zayn sighs in defeat as he slumps back against one of the pillows.  He doesn’t understand.  Everything had been so comfortable first, and now it’s clear Louis’ starting to lose it a bit.

He immediately sits up again when the bathroom door opens.  “Is everything alright?” Zayn asks seriously once Louis closes the door behind himself, his face slightly red.

“Yep, uh,” Louis starts, wrapping his arms around himself and then hanging them back down by his sides.  “I’m just…fine.”

Zayn tucks his foot under himself as he motions Louis to come and sit by him.  “It’s okay, Louis.  You can talk to me if you’re feeling any sort of way.  I’ll always understand.”

Louis’ eyes remain set on the spot Zayn has motioned him to sit on the bed, but he stands exactly where it is.  It’s clear he wants to sit, but he’s so doubtful that he doesn’t move an inch.

“No.  I’ll just sit right here,” he says with a nervous laugh, pulling out his rolling chair from his desk and setting himself down in it.  He leans his elbows on his knees and places his face in his hands, rubbing them over his eyes for a moment as though he’s in deep stress.

“You’re not fine,” Zayn says, nearly whispering.

Louis looks back up at him and shakes his head.  “No, I’m fine.  I just…” he looks down at his feet and suddenly appears more vulnerable, small.  “I don’t know.  I just—I don’t know.”

Zayn wants to get up from the bed and cuddle Louis’ tiny head to his chest, but he decides against it, not wanting to fluster Louis any further.  “I can leave if you wa—“

“No,” Louis says, almost desperately.  “Don’t.  I’m just…acting weird.  Ignore me.  Let’s watch more T.V.”  Instead of getting back on the bed and actually doing what he’s just suggested, he rolls his chair toward where his laptop is placed on the desk.  “Or we can do Netflix?  There’s better stuff on there anyway.”

Zayn finally tosses away all of the metaphorical caution tape and stands up to go and slowly close Louis’ laptop once he’s opened it.  He leans his arm on the desk, looming over the boy so closely that he can’t look anywhere but up at him.  “Lou…something’s bothering you.”

Louis gulps as he stares up at Zayn, and Zayn keeps himself from focusing on the bobbing of his Adam’s apple.  Louis slowly rolls the chair back before standing himself up, running stressed fingers through his hair as he walks aimlessly.  “I just…I don’t know, okay?” he says, turning to Zayn and flailing his hand about.  “I’m sorry I’m acting weird.  It’s just—I’m nervous, and I don’t know what to do or say, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he explains, scratching at his shoulder as he falls over his words.  He mouths the next words at Zayn, looking at him with pleading eyes and appearing more helpless than Zayn can bear.  “Help me.”

Zayn nods his head slowly, understandingly.  He turns around and slides the switch on the lamp down until the room becomes dimly lit.  He slowly approaches Louis, settling both hands on the boy’s shoulders and bringing his forehead close.  He walks him over to the bed, and the boy caresses Zayn’s elbows as they make the journey.

“You need to lay down,” Zayn says softly, turning around and pulling back the covers for Louis.  “Rest.  Clear your mind.  Calm down.”

Louis shakes his head, even as he gets in bed and curls himself under the blanket.  “I don’t think I can calm down.”

“You can, Louis,” Zayn whispers, leaning in close where he’s hunched over the bed.  “Just breathe.  In,”—Louis breathes in—“and out.  In…and out.  You’ve got this,” Zayn says.  He brushes some of Louis’ strands out of his face, then runs a hand down his cheek as the boy continues to focus on maintaining a steady breath.

“Don’t leave,” Louis whispers after a moment.  “I don’t want to be alone.”

Zayn hopes he doesn’t startle Louis too much by how lightly gasps.  He reaches for the remote and turns the television down a little so that it’s reduced to background noise.  He moves back to card his hand through Louis’ hair, eyes locked on his as he examines the boy’s reaction.  He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, so Zayn doesn’t stop.

“Do you want anything?  Water?” he asks.

Louis silently shakes his head.

Zayn takes a while to muster up the courage to ask his next question.  “Can I lay down with you?”

Louis nods his head.

Zayn rises to his feet and rounds Louis’ bed in order to get on the other side, and Louis remains faced the other way, giving Zayn a nice view of his back.  He gets under the sheets, but keeps a space between them both.  He clasps his hands together on his stomach as he stares blankly at the ceiling and listens to the sound of Louis’ gentle breathing.

“I just…” Louis starts abruptly, his voice still quiet, but more certain this time.  “I feel alone.  A bit.  A lot.”  He brings his voice all the way back down to a whisper when he speaks again.  “Like I don’t matter to anyone anymore.”

Zayn grasps onto a chunk of the sheets tightly in order to contain his frustration for the fact that Louis feels such a way.

“Louis, you matter to me more than anyone.  You know that,” Zayn says, turning on his side to face Louis’ back.

Louis doesn’t say anything, but Zayn takes initiative anyway, scooting himself forward, slowly but surely, right until he’s pressed right against Louis’ back, experiencing the beats of his heart and relishing in his steady breaths.

He lets one hand rest on Louis’ hip, and the boy’s body doesn’t seem to tense up, so he proceeds to slide his arm around the boy’s torso, holding him close.  After a few seconds, Louis relaxes into him a bit, brushing his feet against Zayn’s in a quiet, subtle manner.

Zayn is suddenly gaining the courage to do everything he’s always dreamed of doing, and he has no idea where it’s all coming from.  He always gets like this with Louis; the boy brings out the brave, daring parts of himself he’s usually too afraid to tap into.

He leans forward and presses his lips against Louis’ shoulder, placing a sweet kiss there as the boy remains still.  His body tenses up just a bit when Zayn kisses the back of his neck, so Zayn halts his movements altogether.

“No—no, you can,” Louis breathes.

Zayn cautiously brings his face into the crook of Louis’ neck, puckering his lips in order to place a slow, gentle kiss there.  Louis shivers a bit, but he moves his hand to brush Zayn’s arm from where it’s wrapped around him.

Zayn continues to work on Louis’ neck, kissing and sucking so tenderly that it’d probably take quite a while to even make a visible mark.  His fingers faintly brush the skin under Louis’ shirt from where he’s holding him, and all he can feel is an intense desire for _more_.  He wants all of it, and with Louis.

He brings his mouth as close to Louis’ ear as possible.  “Can I touch you?”

He now sees that Louis’ eyes are shut, and he feels like this is all very surreal when Louis nods his head, tilting in order to give Zayn more access to his neck.  Zayn goes right back in, this time giving it a bit more, because he wants it so much that he might even start crying, and here Louis is, giving it to him.

Zayn leisurely drags his hand down from where it’s on Louis’ waist, and smoothes it over his thigh.  He feels Louis move his leg toward the contact, and he grips his thigh more confidently as he bites Louis’ neck softly and causes him to hiss.

He uses his other hand to slide up under Louis’ shirt and hug him more tightly against his body.  He’s warm, and his skin is teasingly soft, and Zayn wants to kiss him everywhere; cover every inch of his body with his lips and show him how much he matters.

A curious hand slowly wanders toward the inner part of Louis’ thigh, testing the waters and making sure the boy is okay with it.  He licks at the spot on Louis’ neck that he bit as he brushes his fingers over one of his nipples.

Louis pushes his body back a little, clearly eager to close any lingering space between them, as he breathes through his nose.  “Yes,” he moans under his breath once Zayn grips the front of his sweatpants.

“That okay?” Zayn asks as he moves his hand against Louis’ bulge.  Louis nods quickly and licks his lips, inching his hips forward every time Zayn’s hand presses down against it.

He knows Louis hasn’t been touched in quite some time, which is probably why he’s so eager for all of this.  Zayn hasn’t touched anyone like this in a very long time either, but he’s had no problem going without it—until now.  Now, he feels like he has to touch Louis everywhere or he might lose his entire mind.

He continues caressing one of Louis’ nipples with his left hand as he works his other hand over where Louis’ hard-on is slowly growing.  He can feel Louis twitch from where he has him cupped, and it only makes Zayn start to grow excited in his own sweats.

His fingers come up to tease at the waistband of Louis’ pants, and Louis’ hips jerk forward a little, desperate for more contact.

“Turn around,” Zayn says, surprised by his own demanding tone.  “I wanna see your face.”

Zayn keeps the tips of his fingers hooked on Louis’ waistband as he turns around to face him.  Louis’ eyes are glossy as he sticks his tongue out to wipe over his bottom lip.  Zayn uses the hand that’s not teasing Louis’ waistband to brush Louis’ hair behind his ear, before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.

Louis whimpers helplessly into the kiss when Zayn slips his hand all the way into his pants and grips at his length.  He feels how painfully hard Louis is, feels his cock throbbing in his hand.  Zayn knows he’s just as hard, if not harder, but he also knows he can get off just by watching Louis’ arousal.

Louis pulls him in by the back of his neck in order to deepen the kiss, their tongues sliding against one another in an uncontrolled manner as Zayn starts stroking his fist up and down Louis’ length.

Louis pulls his mouth from Zayn’s and presses his face into Zayn’s shoulder, holding him tight as he jerks his hips up in order to meet Zayn’s fist.  Zayn takes the hint and picks up the pace a little, kissing at Louis’ neck, shoulder, and anywhere else he can reach as he caresses him.

“ _Fuck_.  Yes,” Louis moans, before sinking his teeth into Zayn’s shoulder and causing his eyes to flutter shut.

Zayn listens to Louis’ tiny, choked sounds as he begins to stroke faster, and every time he hears a faint, helpless “ _Ahh_ ” or “mmm” he feels like he’s _that_ much closer to achieving a blissful orgasm.

He pulls Louis’ head away from his neck in order to seal their lips together again, and Louis’ hands grip the boy’s waist for dear life.  Zayn uses his thumb to spread some of the precome over his cock before moving his fist again, this time going double the speed.

Louis’ breath shudders against Zayn’s lips, their tongues getting tangled in between their mouths as his nails sink into Zayn’s skin.  The sight of Louis with his eyes shut tight, his mouth fully agape, moving his hips uncontrollably against Zayn’s fist, has Zayn dangerously close to the edge.  He bites down on his bottom lip as he tightens his fist, forcing the orgasm out of Louis that he knows is close.

“Zayn, I’m gonna—“ Louis starts, followed by a moan that Lottie may or may not be able to hear from her room.  “Oh God, I’m gonna—“ his hips stutter before he shoots into Zayn’s hand, shaking through all of it as Zayn continues to stroke him, more slowly this time.

Louis breathes in and out through his nose as he comes down, his hands easing their grip on Zayn’s waist.  His eyes remain closed as his chest continues to move, and Zayn watches him with awe, wondering how a single human can hold so much effortless beauty.

“Louis,” Zayn whispers, urging the boy to open his eyes.  He looks at Zayn sleepily, hardly focused.

Zayn brings his hand, covered in the boy’s come, out of Louis’ pants and brings it up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out to lap all of it up from his fingers.  Louis watches him hungrily, his mouth parted open as Zayn licks over all of his fingers, his palm, the areas between his fingers, tasting every last, sweet, succulent drop of Louis.

He’s pretty sure it’s not a surprise that he came too; watching Louis melt like putty under Zayn’s hand is probably the hottest, fucking sexiest sight Zayn has ever seen in his life, and he’s not ashamed one bit about coming in his pants just from watching the boy pant.

What made it all the more special, was the fact that he was panting, moaning, grabbing, for _Zayn_.  He even said his name before he came, which is probably what Zayn thinks pushed him over the limit.

God, he’s so fucking addicted to Louis, and he doesn’t know how to store these emotions away.  He doesn’t even know why he ever tried to.

And it seems like now…now, the boy is finally starting to open his eyes.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's LOTS of zouis so if you're not a fan of it you can skip over the entire part from louis' point of view. i'll make sure to catch you up in the notes of the next chapter :)

 

{H}

Harry tries to will his eyes to shut as he remains curled up against the armrest of the couch.  His eyes, for some reason, have a mind of their own, and refuse to shut, even though it’s 12 am, and now officially Christmas.  He blinks at the television that is suddenly far too bright, but his eyes don’t stay closed.  He just wants _sleep._   He refuses to accept that it’s Christmas until he goes to bed and wakes up in the morning.

He accidentally shifts a little, forgetting that Gemma’s head is rested on his shoulder as she sleeps the night away, snoring faintly.  Harry makes a mental note to tease her about that in the morning.

He tries not to gag as he looks down at himself and remembers he and Gemma are wearing matching holiday sweaters with Christmas trees in the center of them.  His mum had thought it was a good idea, and they had never been ones to criticize anything their own mother had spent her money on, so they threw it on and smiled like it was the best Christmas’ Eve presents they’d ever gotten.

He does his best not to move his body as he strains his neck to see if his mum is still sleeping on the other end of the couch.  He lets out an exhausted sigh and lets his head rest back against the couch, wishing he could just sleep peacefully like the both of them.  Santa can’t even sneak his way in with how awake and alert Harry is.

His narrowed eyes focus back on the television, because he thinks that maybe if he watches whatever Christmas special is on that he’s probably watched a billion times before, he might get tired more quickly and thus, fall asleep.

He snorts and moves to rest his head against his fist when he realizes he’s now watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas, which, although he’s watched many times, he doesn’t think he can get bored with because of how much he adores the special.

A tiny grin pokes at his cheeks as he watches the opening scene, but quickly, whatever enthusiasm he has for the movie is vanished into thin air.  And for a pretty pathetic reason, he might add.

Lately, the weirdest, most absurd things have started to remind him of Louis.

At first it was nothing but a normal, natural feeling of missing someone he loves, always having him in the back of his mind, wondering what he’s doing—basic breakup stuff.  Now it’s like Harry’s longing for the boy is starting to spiral out of control.  He’ll try to stop himself from thinking about the him, because he’s pretty sure it’s doing nothing for his mental health, but he can’t, and it’s getting worse.  Just the other day, the sound of a bird chirping in the distance reminded him of Louis, and after he glanced up at where it was hidden in the trees, he found himself biting back tears, and he didn’t even know _why_.  He later cleared his mind enough to come to the conclusion that it was because when he looked up, the bird was tiny and delicate, and its little chirps were high-pitched and a bit squeaky.  Kind of like Louis’ voice.  Especially when he’s gripping Harry’s biceps, on the brink of—

Harry shakes his head and turns his face into his fist, willing his mind to rid itself of the visual.  It’s only making things harder, thinking about the heavenly things they used to do together that will never happen again, and it’s all his fault.

But back to the subject at hand.  Harry feels more pathetic than ever, because the Grinch’s green color only reminds Harry that green is a mixture of the colors yellow and blue, and blue, well…that’s his personal favorite color, because they also happen to the be the striking eye color of the love of his life.

Now he’s sitting here, at nearly 1 am, Christmas morning (even though it’s technically Christmas’ Eve) everyone around him is asleep, and all he can think about is Louis.  He’s pretty sure he’s set a new record, though; it’d been fifteen minutes since he’d last thought about Louis.

No human should ever have to endure the struggle Harry had to endure today—one where he’d known it was Louis’ birthday from the moment he woke up, and couldn’t be with him.  It’s like there’s an imaginary barrier, hitting Harry in the face every time he perks up at the thought of maybe reaching out to Louis and showing him he still cares.  The barrier hits him hard and forces his phone back into his pocket when Harry wants to contact him, because it’s telling him Louis doesn’t want his pathetic texts, nor his calls.

It ‘s a pretty tragic ordeal, because Harry had been doing absolutely nothing of importance for the entire Christmas’ Eve, so if, in some universe, in some way, he and Louis hadn’t broken up, they could’ve spent the whole day together making cupcakes and getting icing on each other’s noses, watching Christmas movies together, snuggling next to his heater, whispering how much they love one another as they slowly drift off within each other’s embrace.

The possibilities are endless, but they can’t do any of those things now.  It’s a Christmas’ Eve wasted.

Harry huffs, pouting his lips slightly as he falls into deep thought.

He just really hopes Louis had a nice birthday.  The boy deserves it so much; he deserves all things good in the world, and it makes Harry emotional thinking about how he couldn’t be that for him.  He wants so badly to be that for him, but it’s clear he isn’t.  He’d tried to shrug off all the things Zayn had said, because he’d gotten too comfortable in thinking Louis was going to be his forever, but it turns out he was smug for nothing.  Now look at him.  Sad and lonely on Christmas morning, his fingers itching to text someone who doesn’t even care about him.

Harry wipes at his eyes, even though there are no tears there.  He can feel them coming, but he tries his best to suppress them.  If he starts now he won’t stop, and eventually it’ll get so bad that Gemma will wake up and worry about him, and then proceed to wake up their mum.  Harry doesn’t need nor desire any of that.  After the first person at school had tried to come up to him and offer their sympathies for his breakup, he made it _very_ clear that he didn’t want anyone to even as much as approach him with the subject ever again.  It’s bad enough he has to have it replayed over and over in his head; he doesn’t need other people doubling the replays and adding a sprinkle of sympathy along with it.

He wonders if Louis’ sleeping right now.  Probably not, depending on how festively he celebrated his very special day.  Harry knows he’s not having a party, firstly because he doesn’t like parties, and secondly because no one even knows his birthday is on Chrismtas’ Eve.  It’s weird—he doesn’t like telling people about it.  It was like pulling nails out of a wooden board, getting Louis to tell Harry when his birthday was so he could plan on buying him a gift.  When he eventually told Harry, he’d said he simply didn’t want Harry to think he had to buy him a gift two days in a row.  Harry had ended up buying him gifts for the entire week.

A small smile starts to form on Harry’s face, and he doesn’t even realize it.  Louis is just so adorably shy and reserved; it’s what made Harry so crazy about him when they’d first gotten involved with each other.  He could feel Louis slowly unfolding the different parts of him to show to Harry, leaving him eager to explore more, all that he possibly could until he mastered every magnificent part of Louis.  Louis wasn’t public or vocal about wanting Harry like most people were—or are now, since he’s not in a relationship anymore.  Louis was always so quiet about it that Harry began to question if he’d been reading everything wrong and if he was being more of a bother to Louis than he’d thought.  Harry had to find out the hard way, when he chose not to text Louis for a full day and ended up getting ignored for a week.

Harry laughs weakly into his sweater paw, and he finally feels the tears stinging at his eyes.  Nothing has fallen yet, so he tells himself this doesn’t count as a cry.  He’s actually smiling as his eyes grow wetter, because this is all so ridiculous to him.

He really fucked everything up. He didn’t even know any one person could fuck up an entire relationship as badly as he did.  He’d never understood the phrase “point of no return” when he’d heard it before, because he believed any situation could always be fixable, but this…  Louis won’t even look at him.  Louis _walked away_.  Harry gave him an out, and he took it, almost as though he’d been waiting for an opportunity to leave all along.  Louis might as well have dragged Harry’s insides along with him when he walked away, letting them slide across the icy ground and leaving a giant, gaping hole inside of Harry, because that’s exactly what it feels like.  There’s an emptiness that Harry doesn’t even know how to fill, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it—how he’s supposed to _live_ with it.  What do people do in breakups?  How are they ever okay again?  How does one even _begin_ to be okay again?

Harry sits up slowly, sniffing once as he glares at the T.V. for a moment.  Gemma’s head slips off of his shoulder and she jolts awake, grabbing at Harry as he moves to stand up.

“Harry,” she says, going from awake to sleepy again.  Her eyes remain closed.  “What are you…” she yawns.  “What are…”

Harry looks down at her as she falls back asleep, resting her head on top of her hands on the armrest of the couch.  He walks over to the rack in order to grab his coat off of it, and then heads for the front door in order to let himself out of the house and into the torturing feeling of painful, cold, winter air.  He needs to suffer.

He breathes frosty air out from his mouth as he shoves his hands in his pockets, dragging his feet across the lawn.  The neighborhood is quieter than it’s ever been as he walks, meaning there’s nothing to take his attention away from whatever his mind seems to be conjuring up.

The slow steps that are being taken are probably the loudest noise within miles.  Everyone’s asleep, eager to wake up and enjoy the most joyous time of year, but somehow, Harry doesn’t feel joyous.  He hasn’t felt joyous in a long time, and he feels like he never will again.

He just—he has to talk to him one more time.  He _needs_ to hear that mesmerizing voice.  There’s only a few more months before they’re off to uni, which has a campus that’s five times as big as the tiny high school they’re in right now.  He’ll practically never see the boy again, and he can’t imagine not getting to hear him speak once more.  He refuses to have the last words he’s ever heard from Louis be _You can never fix this, Harry.  Never._

Harry places his palm over his mouth as he tries to stifle all of his emotions.  He will not cry.  He’s cried too much over the exact same thing, and he’s pretty sure his mum and Gemma are tired of it.  He’d also let his guard down and cried in front of Liam, at a weak moment when they were alone in the locker room and Liam asked where Louis was, because he hadn’t known.  He’d never seen Liam go so soft before; he took Harry in his arms as soon as the first tear fell, and he hugged him tight, probably in an attempt to squeeze all the sadness out of him.  Harry made it quick, the sob probably lasting about fifteen seconds, so no one else could walk in and see him like that.

Harry ends up walking for what seems to be a long time, and he hadn’t even thought to bring his phone with him, so he has no idea how long it’s been.  He’s reached an area where things are slightly less quiet, which means one or two people are wandering aimlessly as well, probably in the same situation as Harry.

As he continues his stroll down the sidewalk, avoiding awkward eye contact with the man coming the opposite way of him and walking his dog, his eyes wander off to the side, through the tall glass window of a coffee shop where there’s only one girl inside behind the counter as she looks through her phone.  He assumes that must be a bummer, working during the early hours of Christmas morning, not even having anything to do because of such a significant lack of customers.

Harry shuffles over to the entrance and swings the door open, thinking a pity coffee couldn’t be too bad.

Her eyes flutter up as she removes her elbows from the counter, standing up straight.  She greets him like baristas regularly do, even though they both know it’s unnecessary.

As his feet carry him towards the counter, he notices that part of her uniform requires her to wear a cap, and in that moment, Harry remembers how much Louis hates when Harry wears caps, especially backwards, and—he’s thinking of Louis again.

“Do you guys have coffee?” Harry starts, immediately realizing what he’s said and letting out a nervous chuckle.  “I mean, um—wait.  I mean…what do you have…Holiday specials, or anything?”  He scratches behind his ear, feeling painfully awkward and embarrassed from being so consumed by the depressing thought of his broken relationship that he can’t even form coherent sentences.

The girl, whose nametag reads “Rosalia” stares at him for a moment, slightly confused, before she motions to the blackboard behind her.

“We’ve got Pumpkin Spice, White Chocolate Peppermint, Eggnog, and Christmas Cookie, which, I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t feel like making right now,” she says, followed by a yawn.

Harry grins lopsidedly at her sassiness.  “That’s something my…something someone I know would say,” he says, his eyes now downcast, settled on the counter and the tiny decorations set up across it.  There are fun-sized evergreens set up in a perfect line across the edge of the counter, along with a snow globe that has Christmas lights bordering the bottom edge of it.  The lights on the bottom of it blink in different patterns, enchanting Harry’s eyes and providing him with a soft feeling that can only be reminiscent of one special person.

“Are you gonna order—“

“Yeah, I’m just.  Yeah,” Harry replies quickly, nodding his head as the tears start to well in his eyes.  The girl looks completely taken aback, her eyes nearly widening at Harry as he sniffs and wipes at his face.  This time he feels actual tears, heading for his chin as he wipes away at them, all while trying to chuckle halfheartedly as though he’s just got dust in his eye.

Rosalia speaks slowly, as though trying not to pull any strings.  “Are…you okay?”

Harry nods as he sniffles, his eyes now fully red and wet.  “Sorry.  I’m fine,” he replies, his voice raspy.  He lifts his hand to point a weak finger at the snow globe on the counter, and his voice faintly cracks as he speaks.  “This is a really pretty snow globe.  It would make a nice present for someone I know,” he rambles, before wiping his face with his sleeve.  He’s thoroughly grateful that only one human being is around to witness this train wreck.

Rosalia sighs as she leans her elbows back on the counter, looking at Harry with sad eyes.  “Breakup?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughs, running his fingers through his hair.  “It’s so hard, and I…I just don’t know what to do with myself.  I’m a mess.  Sorry for even walking in here.”

Rosalia’s lip curves up on one side as she looks at him.  “No, it’s fine.  Finally gave me some action after three hours of nothing.”

Harry laughs more genuinely this time, feeling thankful he didn’t ruin this girl’s peaceful night.

“Here,” she says, picking the globe up off of the counter.  “Take it.”

Harry’s eyes linger on it, the little Christmas lights nearly hypnotizing him with their beauty.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  Do whatever you want with it,” she says, nudging it towards him.  “Looking at it every day annoys me anyway.”

Harry giggles as he reaches out to take it from her, cradling it in his hands.  “Wouldn’t your boss notice it’s gone?”

She leans forward a bit, shielding her mouth with her hand as though someone might be listening in on them.  “Some days he doesn’t even notice when I don’t show up.”

This evokes more laughter from Harry, his dimples deepening as he holds the snow globe tighter between his palms.  “You’ve somehow succeeded in making me genuinely smile, so I’ll have to thank you for that.”

Rosalia grins at him as she taps her fingers against the counter.  “You’re welcome.”

They say their goodbyes and once Harry’s back outside, stood in the vast darkness of Christmas morning, he realizes he has no idea what his next plan of action is.

His feet, however, obviously have different plans, and even as much as his mind yells at him to just go back home, he can’t bring his feet to listen.

Next thing he knows, he’s stood right in front of Louis’ door during the ungodly hours of the morning.  It’s only then, when he’s moments away from ringing the doorbell, that he thinks about how they’re probably all sleeping peacefully inside, and he wouldn’t want to disturb them with his unwelcome presence, especially after the heart wrenching split.

It’s just that, now Harry’s _staring_ at Louis’ front door.  The boy is right on the other side—so _close_ —and all Harry has to do is ring the doorbell and then he’ll get to see his boy again after what feels like far too long.  If Louis answers the door, he can’t immediately look the other way or avert his attention like he does in school, because Harry will be right in front of him, and there’s no escaping that.  He wants to look into the boy’s eyes one more time—he _needs_ to.  Just one more time.

This motivates him to lift his shivering hand, now debating on whether he should knock or ring the actual doorbell.  He knows why he’s so jittery and nervous, but his feet drove him to do this, and there’s no way they’re turning him back around.

Harry still has no idea what time it is, but he goes for it anyway.  He taps his knuckles against the wood of the door with three steady knocks, then sucks in an icy breath through his nose and waits for whatever’s supposed to happen next.

There’s nothing but silence for a long time, which only heightens Harry’s worries.

He knows he’s an idiot—of _course_ they’re all sleeping.  He might as well go home and forget about all of this.  There’s no way he’s going to get another chance to talk to Louis, so he might as well give it up.  He lost his chance.

Hope is lost after he spends five more minutes with his feet planted in the same spot, and he swallows down any emotion as he furrows his eyebrows at the door.  Harry takes one step back from it, his bottom lip struggling not to tremble as his eyes remain glued to the front door.  He hesitates before taking another step back, just as the door knob starts to twist.

Instantly, his eyes fly to Louis’, which are squinted and tired at first, and then quickly widen into complete bewilderment.  Harry knows for sure he’d been sleeping because of how his hair is flying every which way, but now, with the way he’s staring at Harry all starry eyed, one could barely tell.

Harry knows he’s not speaking, but _God_ , how could anyone blame him?  He hasn’t gotten to properly look at the love of his life in weeks, and now it’s finally happening.  He feels like the moment’s going to be gone too fast, so he’s trying to savor it; trying to take the time to mentally appreciate all of the miniscule aspects of Louis’ stunning face, the curve of his lips, the point of his nose, the patterns in his irises—Harry wants to remember it all.  He even wishes he could take a picture.

Harry slowly reaches deep into the pocket of his jacket where he’d put the snow globe.  Now everything just feels embarrassing and stupid, but he refuses to go home now.

The colorful lights bordering the circular edge of the globe continue to dance around, reminding Harry how he’d immediately thought about how fascinated Louis is by cute little things such as this, and how he would absolutely love it.  If Harry kept it for himself, he knew the pain of missing the boy would increase by the thousands every time he looked at it.

“I…I got this for you,” Harry starts, scratching at his nose as he holds out the globe for Louis.  “I know it sucks as a present, but I just couldn’t _not_ do anything for your birthday, so…here you go.”

Louis’ eyes fall on top of the globe that’s extended toward him, and his right hand is still gripping the edge of his front door.  It hurts that Harry can’t decipher a single thing from Louis’ expression right now, but he tries not to think about it too much.

Eyes of electric blue make their way back up until they’re staring straight into Harry’s again.  Harry’s breath is held for half a moment, his body trying to find ways to deal with getting so much eye contact at once.

“My birthday was yesterday,” Louis replies, his tone serious.

Harry’s lips part for a moment, and he wants to say _You don’t think I know that?_ or _It’s still your birthday until you go to sleep and wake up in the morning for Christmas_ but obviously, the boy doesn’t get it as he blinks at Harry blankly.

“Consider it a Christmas present, then,” Harry says, his voice small and showing defeat.

Finally, Louis removes his hand from where it was still gripping the door, and moves to take the snow globe from Harry.  Harry may or may not shiver for a millisecond when the boy’s thumb barely brushes against his palm.  Louis looks down at it for a moment, observing it with his eyes and slowly twirling it in his hands.  There’s still a look of uncertainty in his features, as though he secretly wants to ask what this is for.

There are various things Harry could say right now, such as _I’m hurting without you, and I’m not sure how much more I can take_ or _I’m so sorry for being stupid and ruining everything._ Heck, he could even get down on his cold knees right at his front door and beg for the boy to take him back, but he uses restraint to keep himself from acting upon any of those ideas.

Once Louis has been quiet for quite a while and his eyes have been glued to nothing but the globe in his hands, Harry realizes; this is it.  This is their last encounter for probably a long time, and the boy can’t even look him in the face anymore.  It’s almost as though he can’t even muster up the courage to speak either.

Harry exhales heavily into the cold winter air before speaking.  “Merry Christmas, Louis,” he says gently, before backing away and turning around before he makes it any harder for himself.  He walks down the front steps, across the driveway, and down the sidewalk without looking back even once.  He refuses to make this hurt anymore than it already has.

 

~*~

 

The holiday break usually goes by fast every year, but this particular year, it went exceptionally slow.  He thoroughly enjoyed all of the family time and presents, just like any regular person would, but by a certain point, he started actually looking forward to getting back to school and attending classes again.  Absurd, he knows.

He also knows that it’s only because school is the only place he can see Louis.  He can’t see Louis during holidays, or during breaks from school, because they don’t share those personal parts of their lives with each other anymore.  Now Harry is lucky to get a glimpse of Louis before the first period of the day, if by chance he gets to school on time.  Then of course, he also has a class with him, but that’s more like torture—it’s not the same as the gift of getting to observe Louis from far away.  It’s just straight forward, cold, bitter, torture.

Now that classes have started back up, Harry has to ignore the fact that it’s been about a month since they’ve broken up, and the thought still shocks him.  To think that he’d never even imagined them parting ways, and now they’ve been doing so for a month, is something no one saw coming.

He keeps this breakup anniversary fact to himself, but that doesn’t stop it from being brought up by someone else.

“It’s almost been a month,” Chase says as they’re resting after running laps.

Harry contemplates pushing him so hard he falls on his ass, yelling profanities at him, or just plain ignoring him, but he manages a small head nod, before making his way somewhere else.

In all of the weeks since they’ve split, Harry hadn’t seen Louis in the cafeteria even once.  It’s probably horrible, the fact that this gave Harry a sliver of satisfaction, because it meant he wasn’t sitting by Zayn, but it also stung a bit, because it made it seem like he only ever ate in the cafeteria to please Harry and his friends.  Harry wishes Louis could’ve told him more about what _he_ wanted.  What’s even worse is that maybe he did, but all Harry could care about was himself.  His pompous, pathetic self.

It’s on the third day back, when Harry’s sitting at the usual spot during lunch, that his heart almost pauses its steady beats altogether, because he sees it.  It’s also the first time _it_ crosses his mind, and he wonders why he’d never worried about _it_ before.

He’d just bitten into his burger, but stilled his jaw mid-chew once he heard the sound of Louis’ laughter, which was faint, but as loud as a fire alarm in Harry’s trained ears.  His head quickly turned toward the familiar sound, and there he was, sitting with Zayn and Niall, head completely thrown back in laughter.  Niall’s sitting across from them, obviously providing the jokes for Louis to laugh at, and Louis and Zayn are sat right next to each other, across from him.

 _It_ invades his mind for the first time since the breakup.  He allows the words to replay in his mind as he sits there, his eyes glued to the back of Louis’ head.

 

_You know what?  Maybe I will_

The words sting Harry’s chest just like they did the first time, but he’d never taken them _seriously_.  He’d thought Louis was just trying to jab deep into Harry’s insecurities because of how much Harry had hurt him.  Now, he can’t help but wonder if… _no_.

This is fucking _terrifying_.

Harry finishes chewing and clasps his hands together on top of his lap in order to restrain from doing anything.  All of the possessiveness and longing inside of him wants to go straight over and fucking _beg_ Louis not to, stop it from happening before it even begins—so he clasps his hands tighter.

He’s trying to remain calm, because after all, it’s his fault that all of this happened—

But he can’t just sit here and _watch_!  The _one_ thing Harry had been most afraid of during their relationship is actually happening before his eyes, and all he can do is sit here and feel bad for himself.

His fists begin to clench his palms even harder, but he tries to contain his anger as best he can.

Harry would rather Louis date any of the sleazy guys on his team, or any of the even sleazier guys on the football team, or even the sexiest, most chiseled guy on earth for goodness’ sake—one that puts Harry to complete _shame_ —, just as long as he isn’t dating _Zayn_.

 _Anyone_ but Zayn.

Zayn had been so pretentious and confident about taking Louis right from Harry’s arms, and the last thing Harry wants is for him to end up winning.  Zayn will _never_ be what Louis needs, and he just has to sit here and cross his fingers that Louis knows that.  That is, if he hasn’t already made his decision to be with Zayn yet.

Harry swallows a lump in his throat, beginning to scratch at his thighs as he turns his head somewhere else.  Now he can’t even stare at them sitting next to each other without thinking about the possibilities of them doing certain, other _things_ —things he and Harry used to do.  It makes him want to throw up everything he’d eaten since he’d woken this morning.

He looks down at his hands under the table, the skin growing white from all of the tension.  He allows them to loosen a bit; contained anger is never a good thing.

He trusts Louis.  He trusts and knows that Louis is aware of how broken Harry would be by this, and he wouldn’t do that.

Harry does a good job of remaining relatively calm, up until he’s alone in the gym after practice, shooting baskets and deep in thought.  The image of Louis laughing next to Zayn flashes through his head multiple times as he’s making a shot, and it causes him to miss by a large margin.

He rubs his index fingers over his temples in order to calm his mind, but he knows it’s not going to work.  Since he’s started to think about it now, he’s not going to rest until he knows for sure.  That’s how things have always worked for him.

He walks over to pick up the basketball that rolled away, and he twirls it in his hands as the image pops up in his mind again.  His eyes stare blankly at the wall in front of him as he thinks about Zayn simply putting a hand around Louis’ waist.  He hurls the basketball at the wall with all the power he has, causing a loud boom to echo through the gym, and he squats down to the ground, running stressful hands through his hair as that lump starts to form again.

“Please, no,” Harry chokes out.

 

 

 

 

 

{L}

Louis pulls his gloves off finger by finger as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Did I mention I hate winter?” Louis says, proceeding to turn on the faucet in his bathroom so the hot water will pour out.

Zayn giggles from behind him as he watches Louis try to defrost his cold hands.  “How could anybody hate winter?  It’s probably the only time of the year where everybody’s nice to each other just for the heck of it.”

Louis looks in the mirror and catches Zayn’s eye, giving him a grin.  “If by ‘nice to each other’ you mean Lottie throwing a fit because mum didn’t get her that new phone she expected, then yeah.”

Zayn sets one hand on Louis’ shoulder, swaying him a bit and causing him to laugh.  “Lottie’s a special case.”

Louis sighs.  “And now I’m freezing my ass off because the heat in my car stopped working mid-drive.  How lovely is winter?”

“Very lovely,” Zayn laughs, coming up closer behind him and wrapping his arms around his chest.  He speaks softly into his ear as he locks eyes with him in the mirror.  “Mr. Grinch.”

Louis tries to elbow Zayn from where he’s standing, but Zayn is unaffected as he brings himself closer, all of his hearty chuckles tickling Louis’ neck.  “Hey!  I am _not_ green.”

Zayn smirks at him.  “Yeah, you’re not.  You’re red, actually.”

It’s then that Louis realizes that he’s blushing, because he’d been so focused on Zayn’s reflection in the mirror that he hadn’t taken the time to worry about his own.  He grins down at the counter as he caresses one of his cheeks in his hand, trying to will away their rosy color.

“I’ll make _you_ red,” Louis teases softly, pushing back against Zayn in order to bring them closer.  He hears the slight hitch in Zayn’s breath once his ass makes tight contact with the front of Zayn’s joggers.

He has no idea why they beat around the bush like this all the time—they both know exactly where this is headed.  Louis can’t pretend to be oblivious anymore because even _he_ knows what he’s doing.

“Really?” Zayn practically breathes into his ear.  Louis looks back up in order to catch Zayn’s eye in the mirror again, and he watches as the boy’s hand wanders down the length of his shirt to caress his waist.  “And how will you do that?”

Louis taps his knuckles against the bathroom counter and shrugs, before pushing back against Zayn even more, arching his back a little.  Zayn grips him firmer, now hugging the boy’s body tight to his.  “I dunno.  You tell me.”

He watches Zayn’s reflection as his teeth nearly bruise his bottom lip from how hard he’s biting down.

Louis rolls his hips back again once he feels Zayn twitch under his pants.  “Getting a little excited there?”

Zayn tilts his head, and Louis’ eyes flutter shut when he feels Zayn’s teeth lightly grip the skin of his earlobe, right before grazing his tongue over the area.  “Can you not feel it?  Let me help you then.”  Louis gasps when Zayn suddenly jerks him closer, his boner now pressing right against Louis’ ass, causing his own pants to start to tent as well.

Louis quickly turns around in his arms, buries his hand in Zayn’s hair and brings him in until their lips meet, even though their tongues end up meeting somewhere in the middle.  A faint whine comes out from between Louis’ lips as he kisses him, and he feels Zayn’s hand at the front of his jeans.

It astounds Louis when he thinks about how long he’d gone without even thinking about this sort of thing with Zayn.  Not once before they kissed in his car had it ever crossed his mind, because he’d always thought of Zayn as one of his closest, purest friends.  Never did he think he would go completely wild with _want_ for this boy, resulting in impatient, grabby hands and heavy, erratic pants.  He knows he’s overwhelmingly addicted to this because he hasn’t had this rush of wanting someone so bad that he couldn’t wait in a while.  It had happened at first with Harry, when they first started exploring each other and realizing they wanted more than to just kiss, but it turned into slow, sensual kisses that were filled with love rather than impatience.  Now, as Zayn works on the zipper of Louis’ pants, and they’re kissing so hard Louis is worried he might faint from not getting a second to breathe, he knows whatever they’re sharing is more on the restless, excited side.

Even though they’re usually rushing and eager to get into each other’s pants, somehow, Zayn’s hands always seem to be so gentle, and it drives Louis _crazy_.  It’s as though his graceful fingers are made to be all over Louis’ body, teasing him and satisfying him all at once.

Louis moves his mouth down to Zayn’s neck as he feels the boy’s hands slide down into his pants to lightly palm at his boxers.  He sucks a slow, wet bruise into his neck that he knows is going to leave a mark, and he licks back over it with his tongue as Zayn shivers into the touch.

Zayn suddenly takes his hand out of Louis’ jeans and instead uses both of his hands to grip Louis’ ass, pulling them into each other so that their crotches are perfectly aligned.

Louis holds on tightly to Zayn’s shoulders as he ruts his hips up against Zayn’s, his mouth falling open at the friction.

Zayn’s breaths pick up with every roll of Louis’ hips, and he finally lets his mouth open as a deep, drawn out moan leaves his lips.  The bathroom counter is nearly digging into Louis’ spine as they continue to grind hard against each other, struggling to maintain sloppy kisses.

“ _A-ah_ ,” Louis whines against Zayn’s lips.  He wraps his arm around the back of Zayn’s neck, bringing him in close as his hips start to move erratically.

Out of nowhere, he feels Zayn’s hands at his hips, stilling them for a moment.  Louis desperately ruts his hips forward a few more times, before pulling back in order to figure out what Zayn’s feeling.

Zayn’s eyes are glossed over as he keeps them glued to Louis’ lips, and Louis breathes in and out through his nose as he struggles to ignore how painfully hard his dick is now.

Zayn closes his eyes and brings his head close to Louis’, their noses just barely touching each other.  “Are you clean?” he whispers.

Louis mirrors Zayn and closes his eyes to the feeling of gentle breaths against his lips.  “Like—down there?”

“Yeah.”

Louis’ breath stutters just a little bit at the thought of what Zayn’s implying, but he answers nonetheless.  “Yes.  I just showered not too long ago.  I can go shower again if you wa—“

His words are cut off when Zayn is scooping him up by curving his arms up under his thighs.  Louis lets out a tiny giggle into Zayn’s shoulder as the boy carries him towards his bedroom.

“Are you gonna eat me out?” Louis asks quietly.

Zayn slowly puts him down on the bed, making sure to be cautious as he crawls to bring his own body over Louis’.  “Yep.  If you’ll let me.”

Louis blinks up at him as he swallows.

Louis’ very bold and daring when it comes to doing things in bed, and he in fact is always up for anything, but to say he’s not a tad bit nervous right now would be a lie.  He wants it—he wants it _really_ bad now that Zayn’s looming over him and holding his gaze with those long eyelashes of is—but he’s never done something like this before.  Not even with Harry.

Zayn’s eyes suddenly look away from Louis’ as he stares at some spot on the bed.  “Unless you don’t want me to—that’s fine.  I’ll be okay.”

Louis shakes his head.  “No, no.  I do,” he says, reaching out and pressing the tips of his fingers against Zayn’s cheek.  Zayn immediately softens and grins at him.

“Okay then,” Zayn starts, slowly bringing his hands under Louis’ jacket and into the sleeves in order to slide them off.  Louis sits up a bit and allows his jacket to be removed, keeping eye contact with Zayn the whole time.

“Turn over, love.”

Louis just has to hope he’s not blushing as he moves to get on his hands and knees on the bed, only feeling a little more nervous than before.  He knows there’s nothing to be worried about, but he just feels like he’s out of his element, because for once, _he’s_ the shy, timid one.

Zayn’s warm hands slide up his bare skin under his t-shirt, smoothing up and down his back until his fingers graze the waist of Louis’ jeans.  Louis exhales shakily when Zayn slides down his pants and jeans at the same time.  Louis has never had a problem with feeling exposed, although he’s a little cold.  He focuses on looking at his own hands on the bed as Zayn presses tender kisses to his left cheek.

Louis’ truly unprepared when Zayn’s hands spread him open, and he presses a kiss right on top of his hole.  He gasps, surprised at the unfamiliar contact.  “ _Oh,_ ” Louis breathes, furrowing his eyebrows as he continues to stare at his hands.

A light laugh comes out of Zayn’s mouth before he goes back in, this time licking a stripe over his hole, his tongue flattened against the skin.  Louis’ eyes slip shut as he darts his tongue out to lick his lips.

Zayn’s voice is small and almost insecure when he speaks.  “Is that good?”

“Yeah, yeah—just,” Louis replies quickly, nodding his head.  “Keep going.”

A few seconds pass before he feels Zayn’s tongue again, licking up and down against his hole without entering, his hands steadily holding Louis’ cheeks apart.

Louis’ eyes are still closed as his hips inch back a bit, begging for more contact with the gentleness of Zayn’s tongue.  His arms start to shake a little as Zayn continues to lick him up and down, teasingly slow with his tongue now barely even touching his skin with every lick.

He finally presses the tip of his tongue against Louis’ entrance, and even though he doesn’t fully enter, Louis’ hands curl around the sheets to grasp at them tightly.  He’s pretty sure this is the greatest thing he’s ever felt, and they haven’t even gotten to the main event yet.

When they finally do, however, a high pitched whimper leaves Louis’ mouth.  The feeling of Zayn’s tongue moving in and out has him rock hard, trying his hardest not to move back against Zayn’s tongue and failing.

“ _Fuck_ , that feels so good,” Louis moans, his tone higher than usual.

Zayn hums as he pulls his tongue out, right before pressing back in, his tongue going as deep as possible.

“Oh my—“ Louis chokes, cutting himself off by his own sobs.  Zayn spreads his cheeks even more before gripping them tighter, probably bruising the skin with how hard his fingers are sunk in.

Zayn pulls out to press a wet kiss to Louis’ hole again, before he sticks his tongue back in with one swift, deep motion.  Louis’ arms give out, and his forehead, which is now sweaty with hairs sticking to it, comes down to rest on the bed as he continues to grip the sheets

“Holy shit, don’t stop,” Louis says weakly, followed by another whimper.  “ _Please_ don’t— _oh_.”  He shudders at the feeling of Zayn’s finger just barely touching his hole as Zayn’s tongue continues to work in and out of him.

Louis brings one fist to his mouth in order to bite down on it, and he reaches under himself to grab his length with his other hand.  The movement causes Zayn to pull his mouth back in order to speak.

“I wanted you to come without it,” Zayn says, his lips gently grazing Louis’ hole.  He feels Zayn’s soft hand reach out to touch his hand that’s now hesitantly stuck in the air near his throbbing cock.  “Do you think you can do that for me?  Please?”

Louis nods absentmindedly before pushing his hips back in order to gain that contact again.  Zayn giggles before licking a flat stripe up against his hole again, evoking a groan out of Louis.

Zayn’s finger comes back up to tease at Louis’ hole, and Louis’ eyebrows furrow at the fact that he’s not just _doing it_ already.  “Please, _yes_ —Your tongue and your finger,” Louis mumbles, knowing it’s complete gibberish.  He feels Zayn’s tongue enter him once again, and this time he goes in deeper than he’s gone the entire time, and Louis feels tears poking at the back of his eyes.

“ _Ah!”_ Louis wails, his eyes watery as Zayn remains buried there for a few moments.  Zayn pulls back out, and finally pushes his finger in all the way, causing Louis to push back against him without a single thought.

“Yes, _yes!”_ Louis nearly screams, not even giving a thought as to who might hear.  Zayn’s finger curves up just the right way to meet his prostate, and Louis is grinding against him relentlessly, his moans echoing throughout the bedroom.

“Right there, Zayn,” Louis pants.  “Right there— _yes_.”

He gasps when he feels Zayn lick against his hole alongside his finger.  He figures there’s probably going to be an avalanche when he comes, which is in about, two seconds.

“ _Fuck_ , Zayn,” Louis whimpers, a single tear falling down his face.

He comes when Zayn’s tongue enters him one last time, and he’s pretty sure he blacks out for a second once his vision is consumed with nothing but stars.  It comes out in long white stripes across the sheets, which he now realizes will have to be washed immediately.  He’s exhausted when he finally starts to come down from his high, but that doesn’t stop him from getting up and immediately pushing Zayn down against the bed so that he’s on his back.

He scoots down the bed so that he’s face to face with Zayn’s tented joggers, and he proceeds to pull everything down in one go, watching as Zayn’s cock quickly hits his stomach.

Louis’ now facing the reality that he’s never given any guy head besides Harry, but he lets the thought reside as he grips Zayn in his hand, watching the boy’s mouth hang open as he budges his hips up a bit.  He can tell Zayn is already on edge by how his toes curl where they’re next to Louis’ head.

Louis sticks out his tongue to lick at Zayn’s tip, tasting some of the precome as he works his hand over the length.

“’M so close,” Zayn whispers, his hips clearly yearning to meet Louis’ mouth as he tries to keep them down.

Louis finally dips his head down, sucking on the head of Zayn’s dick as the boy starts to pant.  The feeling of Zayn’s soft hand caressing the hair on the back of his head motivates him to go deeper.

It’s only a few more seconds of Louis bobbing his head as Zayn moans, before Zayn comes in his mouth, and Louis makes a show of swallowing every last bit of it.  Louis notes how different Zayn’s taste is from Harry.  Don’t get him wrong—Louis absolutely _loved_ sucking the life out of Harry’s dick any chance he got, but Zayn is new, and he tastes sweet, and now Louis wouldn’t mind doing this every day.  Louis’ eyes don’t leave Zayn’s as he breathes in and out, biting on his bottom lip as he looks down at Louis.

“You’re so—so fucking,” Zayn breathes, his eyes dazed.  “ _Good._   You’re good at everything.”

“Why thank you,” Louis says with a smirk as he does Zayn’s pants back up and slides them up on his hips.  He crawls over him, bringing his body up the bed until he’s eye to eye with Zayn again.

“You need to pull up your pants too, in case someone walks in to find your ass exposed,” Zayn says, a teasing grin on his face.

Louis scoffs.  “I locked my door, genius.”

Zayn quirks up an eyebrow at him, before nudging his head toward the door.  “Oh, did you?”

Louis turns his head to look behind him at the bedroom door that is, in fact, not locked. _Very_ risky business, what they were doing.

Louis slaps at Zayn’s arm.  “And you didn’t _tell_ me?”  He moves to get off from on top of Zayn in order to go and lock it, right before Zayn pulls him back in by his hips, pulling his bottoms back up and buttoning up his jeans.

Their lips slide against each other as Louis forgets about whatever he was going to do.

“I was too caught up in our beautiful moment,” Zayn murmurs against Louis’ lips, right before going in for another kiss.

“Because eating my ass is more important than worrying about if we might accidentally scar my sister for life,” Louis whispers, right before kissing him again.

Zayn laughs lightly as they kiss some more, their kisses now growing more lazy and languid.  They kiss for a _while_ , but Louis has no intentions of stopping it—that is, until his door actually opens.

Louis and Zayn immediately separate themselves once they hear the mere sound of the door knob twisting.  By the time Lottie’s head has fully entered the room, Zayn is casually wiping lint off of his sweater and Louis is flipping through a comic book that he quickly grabbed off of his dresser.

“What do you want?” Louis asks, his eyes peering at her over the comic book.

Lottie narrows her eyebrows at them as she continues to hold the doorknob.  They both stare at her indifferently.

“Mum wants you to run some errands,” she says hesitantly.

Louis groans before sitting up so he can settle his feet on the ground.  “Tell her I’ll be down in five.”

“Okay,” Lottie replies with a shrug, giving them one last look before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

There’s silence for a few seconds, and Zayn is the first one to break it when he starts giggling.  Louis giggles too, swatting his hands at Zayn, who keeps trying to playfully shove him.

 

~*~

 

The school days for Louis have been the same as usual—well, as it’s been for the last month at least.  He still gets the same gut wrenching feeling whenever he sees Harry within a mile radius, except this time the feeling is paired with the confusion that still lingers from when Harry popped up on his doorstep in the middle of the night.

The fact that it’s been a month since their breakup makes Louis very uneasy.  They walk around, completely ignoring one another, spending their time talking to other people, as though they’d never even had anything before.  In a way, it’s almost as if they’d never been together, with how seriously they act as though the other doesn’t even exist.

Louis wants those two long, amazing years of his life back, because now he knows he could’ve spent all that time doing something useful, like actually caring about his grades, not planning his future around one particular person, or maybe joining a club or two.

At the same time, Louis winces at the mere thought of having those years erased, because even though all those memories cause him pain, it helps him remember that he’s experienced being in love.  Yeah, he’s _still_ in love, but for future reference—in case by chance he actually gets over this—he’ll know he’s been in love before, he knows how it feels, and that’s not something many get to say.

It’s another day where he’s sitting next to Harry in the one class they have together, the class Louis used to always be so excited to attend even though he knew he would see Harry at least five other times outside of it.  Now he dreads it, has to drag his heavy feet in order to get to the class on time, and then he has to watch the eyes on him as he takes his stupid seat.

Louis hopes he gets off lucky again and Mr. Fages doesn’t ask them to do anything that requires interaction with other students, but unfortunately, that isn’t what ends up happening.  He should’ve known his luck would run out at _some_ point.

The words that come out of his teacher’s mouth cause him to freeze in his seat completely.

“Turn to someone next to you and discuss how the poem…” the rest of his words fade out of Louis’ ears once he hears the first part.

He shifts his head down and stares at his hands as he hears the rest of the class start to discuss and analyze the poem written on the board.  He examines each of his fingers thoroughly, as though they’re the most interesting things in the world right now.  He prays Harry will just turn to the person on the other side of him and spare Louis all of his suffering.

“I think the idioms in the poem are what makes it unique,” he hears from next to him.  Louis remains still at first, just in case Harry hadn’t been talking to him, but after a while he can’t help but bring his eyes up to check.  Sure enough, Harry is staring right at him, his expression indifferent as he rests his chin on his fist.  He looks gloriously soft, his curls gracefully framing his face as he stares at Louis and waits for a reply.

Harry’s… _actually_ trying to discuss idioms with him.

Okay.

Louis brings his hand up with plans to bite on his nail, right before stopping himself and settling his hand back on his lap.  “Um…I…” Louis starts, his mouth lingering open.  He has no idea what to say, because for one, he wasn’t listening to anything going on in class anyway, and two, how can he take Harry seriously right now?

“Look…” Harry says, and Louis shuts his mouth immediately.  Harry’s hands settle on top of the table and he looks down at them as he positions his knees in order to face Louis more properly.  “I don’t want there to be any harsh feelings between us.  There’s no animosity, right?”

Louis’ pretty sure his eyes are gigantic as he stares at Harry, nodding and dumbfounded.

Harry speaks again when he figures that’s the most Louis’ going to communicate with him.  “I don’t hate you.”

Louis nods again, his lips seemingly sown together and preventing him from speaking.

“Louis…” Harry says a bit weakly as he struggles to bring his eyes back up to Louis’ again.  “Please, talk to me.  Say something.  Let me know you understand.”

Louis takes a while to part his lips, now casting his eyes somewhere else and tuning in the sounds of everyone talking around them.  “Okay,” he replies quietly.

In his peripheral he can see that Harry nods his head once and then turns back forward, flipping one of the pages of his notebook.  Louis lets out a breath of relief, because he thinks Harry’s done torturing him.  He’s wrong.

“Are you…” Harry starts, speaking cautiously so as to not press any buttons.  “Are you…uh, I know it’s none of my business.  You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Something dings in Louis’ mind and suddenly he’s pretty sure he knows what Harry’s going to ask.  He holds his breath and braces himself for it—right before the bell for the end of class rings.

Louis immediately shoves everything into his backpack and moves to stand up.  He tries to disguise himself as a guy casually getting ready to go to his next class, but he knows he appears to be nothing but a hurried mess.

He’s just slipped both of his straps over his shoulders and is about a foot away from Harry when the boy decides to speak anyway.

“Are you…seeing Zayn?” he asks, his deep, gruff voice somehow turning insecure and soft.

Louis turns around, one hand lingering on the strap of his backpack as he meets Harry’s eyes.  The boy is noticeably trying not to wince as he maintains eye contact.

Louis can see it. He can see all the hurt hidden behind Harry’s eyes, and he despises himself because he _knew_.  He fucking _knew_ how much it would hurt Harry, and he can’t act surprised now.

In the back of his mind through his whole experience with Zayn, there was a whisper telling him this would crush Harry’s heart if he ever found out.  Louis ignored it, however, opting to give into his overwhelming lust and deal with all the other stuff later.  He brought this upon himself, and now he feels like a horrible person, watching Harry resemble a bruised koala right before his eyes.

So he does the one thing he knows will keep Harry from breaking down in front of everybody.  Keep _Louis_ from living with the fact that he’s actively hurting the person he’s in love with.

“No,” Louis replies, before immediately taking his bottom lip in between his teeth and looking at a point beyond Harry’s head.

A moment passes, Harry staring straight through Louis as Louis stares somewhere else, and then Harry finally nods.  He doesn’t do anything else but nod, before swinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking away.

Louis remains in the same spot as he listens to the sound of Harry’s footsteps leaving the classroom.

Louis lets out a sigh of relief, even though he knows what he’s done isn’t moral.  He just relishes in the feeling of not having to deal with all of that stuff now.  He refuses to be the one present when Harry finds out—that is, if he ever finds out.  He doesn’t _have_ to find out, does he?

The next few days are a little different, but Louis can’t quite pinpoint why.  He and Harry had only spoken to each other twice since the breakup, but now it seems like they’re “not speaking” even harder, if that makes sense.  Harry starts to ignore Louis’ presence so much that Louis himself even has to stop and ask himself if he exists.  The only thing that reminds him of such is the fact that Zayn pays him any attention.

Harry had said himself that there were no hard feelings, so why is it different now?

To top it all off and confirm Louis’ sudden sense of things shifting between them, a week later, when Mr. Fages tells them once again to turn to the people around them and discuss, it becomes clear as day.  Louis immediately braces himself for Harry to ambush him again, but instead, the boy easily turns to the girl on the other side of him and proceeds to have a conversation.

It takes Louis by surprise a bit, but he knows he can’t complain.  This is what he wanted.  He pretty much dissociates every time Harry acknowledges him now, which has been a total of two times, so why would he _want_ Harry to talk to him?

It’s just that Harry had no problem talking to him before, so why did he choose _now_ to turn to the person on the other side of him and ignore Louis completely?

Maybe Louis is reading into it too much.  Just because they don’t have hard feelings towards one other, doesn’t mean they have to partner up for every class discussion.  This is how normal people who don’t date act toward each other, so maybe Louis just needs to get used to it.

Except he can’t.  The fact that he and Harry are normal people that don’t date each other is something he wishes weren’t true.  It doesn’t make sense.  It’ll never make sense.

 

~*~

 

“Do that again,” Louis mumbles against Zayn’s neck.

Zayn pulls his head back, his fingers still buried in Louis’ hair as he grins at him.  “Do what?”

“The thing,” Louis replies, shutting his eyes.

He can hear the smirk in Zayn’s voice as he speaks.  “You mean, this?” he asks, gripping Louis’ hair and pulling at it, causing Louis’ breath to hitch.

Louis exhales a shaky breath before pressing another kiss to Zayn’s neck.  “Yeah.”

They’re in the back of Louis’ car, because dropping Zayn off at home had turned into a fierce make out session, which has now turned into lazy kisses and hair pulling.

“I didn’t know you were kinky,” Zayn giggles, pulling Louis in closer by his waist.

“I am when the, uh…” Louis purrs, bringing his hand down to palm at the front of Zayn’s jeans.  “Right people bring it out of me.”

Zayn leans forward to take Louis’ bottom lip between his teeth, before releasing it.  “I’m so happy to be that person,” he whispers against Louis’ lips.

“You should be,” Louis says, before pressing a kiss against the corner of Zayn’s mouth.

“Really,” Zayn starts, touching his fingers against Louis’ jaw.  “I’m incredibly lucky.”  Their eyes lock, Zayn not daring to look anywhere as he seems to be studying every characteristic of Louis’ gaze.  Zayn’s voice comes out hushed.  “Not everyone gets to experience a view like this.”

Louis nudges his face in the direction of Zayn’s touch, not even attempting to disguise his blush.  “Why are you so sweet?”

“Because you’re so beautiful,” Zayn replies easily, sliding his fingers down to lightly grip Louis’ chin.  He tilts his chin up to press their lips together, licking into his mouth slowly.

Their hands wander each other’s bodies as they kiss, and eventually Louis gets pushed onto his back as Zayn lies on top of him, sliding their legs together.

Louis moans into the kiss when Zayn grinds down against his hips.

That tiny, barely distinguishable whisper in the back of his head makes itself known again as they continue to kiss, rutting against each other more impatiently.  It’s telling him the same thing as before, that maybe this isn’t a good idea, but the problem is his _body_.  His body is tired of not being touched, and it wants all of this so bad that he can’t bring himself to stop.

Zayn’s arms curl under his thighs as he thrusts up hungrily against Louis, causing his back to slide up the seat a little.  Louis pulls back from the kiss to pant as he hands continue to caress Zayn’s neck.

“I wanna be close to you,” Zayn says with a hum, before sucking a kiss to Louis’ jaw.  He holds Louis’ thighs tighter and grinds against him again, emitting a moan from Louis’ lips.  “I wanna be closer to you.”

“Me too,” Louis whispers, his mouth falling agape when Zayn grinds down again.

He hasn’t realized what he’s just said until Zayn pauses his movements, moving his eyes to study Louis’ with stern focus.  “I was just…talking.  We don’t have to—“

Louis grabs at Zayn’s shirt, pulling him closer to his body.  “We can.”  He’s seconds away from pleading, but he restrains himself.

That pesky whisper is bothering him again, like a bumblebee buzzing by his ear that he just wants to smack away.  Louis figures this will silence it for a moment, or maybe even for _good_.  He just has to pretend.  Has to pretend despicable, imaginary things about who he’s actually doing this with in order to fully enjoy it.  The more he allows his mind to slip into that imaginary state, the greener the eyes he’s staring into become, and suddenly Zayn’s soft and gentle tone is deep and poetic, like honey slowly being poured into a mug of steaming tea.

Louis’ body begins to soften completely, and he lifts his wrist to caress Zayn’s face with the back of his hand, gradually getting lost in his eyes as he allows his mind to slip.  _Slip.  Slip._

He’s feeling more drawn to him than he’s ever felt before, and he knows it’s for a shitty reason, but he can’t stop now.  He wants this to be something that it isn’t so _badly_.

Zayn laughs nervously from where he’s positioned above Louis.  “Are we talking about the same thing?”

“If we’re talking about you fucking me, then yes.”

Zayn’s shaking his head before Louis’ done speaking.  “Don’t…call it fucking.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow up before bringing Zayn in closer.  “Fuck me.”

Zayn’s breath hitches a little as his eyes slide down to Louis’ lips, but he shakes his head again.  “You calling it that makes me not want to do it.”

Louis brings his voice down to a whisper, luring Zayn in closer with his pleading eyes.  “Have sex with me.”

Zayn’s expression is contemplative for a moment, before he nods once.  “Not quite, but better.”

Louis chuckles as he brings his legs up to wrap around Zayn’s back.

Zayn pauses his movements.  “Are you nervous?”

Louis shakes his head as his eyes move to examine Zayn’s lips, his cheekbones, his pretty eyelashes.  He lets his eyes close as he breathes out, feeling Zayn’s hairs tickle against his forehead.  “No, I’m just…” he starts, speaking gently.  “I never thought we’d get here.  I always thought we…I dunno.”

“It’s okay, Lou,” Zayn whispers, pressing his forehead against Louis’.  “Just let yourself feel.  Give into whatever you’re feeling.  I promise it’s okay.”

“I know,” Louis replies, opening his eyes to look at Zayn even though he’s much too close.  “You always make me feel safe.  I love that.”

“And I…” Zayn starts, his words getting lost in the air.  It seems to Louis like he changes what he was about to say when he speaks again.  “I want to do this.”

“Okay then, uh,” Louis says, wiggling his hips.  “Let’s do this, Captain.”

“Don’t,” Zayn laughs.

They both lay there for a moment, giggling lightly as they shift against each other, and then Zayn suddenly stiffens.

“What?” Louis asks..

Zayn blinks twice, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.  “I just got a little nervous myself.”

Louis tilts his head slightly as he furrows his eyebrows.  “Why?”

“This is just…” Zayn starts, his voice hushed.  “This is a lot, isn’t it?”

Louis pulls Zayn in by the back of his neck, bringing his lips to the soft skin of his throat before speaking.  “It doesn’t have to be.”

“I also just now realize I don’t have anything,” Zayn says, shivering when Louis’ teeth catch on his skin.

“I do,” Louis replies, causing Zayn to pull his head back.

Zayn opens his lips to speak, before closing them as a smirk grows on his face.  “I don’t even wanna ask…”

“Don’t,” Louis replies, before shifting his hips upward so he can reach for his bag.

If Louis keeps condoms and lube in his bag just in case Harry ever wants to have a makeup quickie anywhere, at anytime, Zayn doesn’t have to know.

Louis catches Zayn’s lips between his as the boy does his pants down, allowing his dick, which hasn’t softened at all through all of their pre-sex banter, to spring free.  He pinches Zayn’s tongue between his teeth when Zayn starts working a fist up and down his length.

Louis’ hips jerk upward when Zayn’s hand leaves his cock, and he looks down to see Zayn smearing lube over his fingers.  Just the sight makes Louis open a little, and he’s pretty sure he’s ready before Zayn has even inserted a finger.

The tip of his index finger pokes Louis’ entrance, causing Louis to shiver from the cold and brace himself on Zayn’s arms.

Zayn seems to sense how easily Louis is opening up for him, so he doesn’t waste time in adding another finger.

“Yeah,” Louis hums, bringing Zayn in closer by wrapping an arm around the back of his neck.  He presses sloppy kisses against Zayn’s shoulder as his hips start to budge up to meet every movement of Zayn’s fingers in and out of him.

Zayn’s fingers brush against his prostate once as he scissors his fingers, and a faint whine comes out of Louis’ mouth before he pleads.  “ _Oh_ —I’m ready.”  His breathes come out shakily as he grips Zayn’s arms tighter.

Despite declaring that he’s ready to Zayn, it’s a struggle to keep his hips up when Zayn slides his fingers out.

“Are you sure?” Zayn asks, reaching for the condom on the cushion of the seat.

Louis nods his head as he takes the condom packet out of Zayn’s hand, bringing it to his mouth in order to rip it open with his teeth.  He’s never seen Zayn’s eyes so hungry as they stare down at Louis’ hands, following their every movement as he works on undoing Zayn’s pants and sliding the condom down his length.

When they both realize it’s about to happen, and Louis is grabbing at Zayn impatiently, and Zayn is being as gentle and hesitant as possible as he aligns the head of his cock with Louis’ entrance, that _whisper_ comes about again.

Louis quickly pulls Zayn in for a hard kiss, thrusting his hips upward until Zayn gets the courage to slide in.  He forces his mind to slip away from reality again, to focus on the pleasure of it all and visualize an entirely different setting, along with an entirely different person.

He breaks from the kiss for a moment to gasp as Zayn enters him, feeling how long it’s been since he’s had someone inside of him like this.

Zayn’s thrust is slow and cautious as he grips Louis’ hips, kissing him whenever he’s not too busy gasping and panting.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” Zayn murmurs against his lips, even though by just one look, Louis can tell the last thing the boy wants to do is stop.

“Keep going,” Louis says, his eyes sliding shut as Zayn slides in further.  He feels himself spreading wide open under Zayn, and he can’t quite pinpoint if it’s a good feeling yet, but he lets his eyes close as he concentrates on kissing Zayn instead.

“God,” he hears Zayn breath against his lips, his thrusts becoming less unsure.  “You feel so… _fuck_.”

The sound of Zayn swearing profoundly is so out of character that it immediately makes Louis more aroused, a low hum sprouting from his lips as he grinds his hips upward to meet Zayn’s thrusts.

Zayn’s arm curves up under Louis’ right thigh, lifting his leg in the air so he can thrust into Louis the way he wants.

“That’s g-good,” Louis stutters, feeling Zayn brush against his prostate as he picks up his pace.  “Really good.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, probably not checking for Louis’ answer before connecting their lips for a sloppy kiss.  He speaks uncontrollably between their kisses as his thrusts pick up speed.  “Always wanted to do this with you.  Always.”

The comment probably would’ve thrown Louis off if Zayn wasn’t hitting his sweet spot numerous times.  “ _Ah_ , fuck!” Louis wails, slightly trembling as Zayn lifts his leg even higher and slams into his spot directly.  “Right there, oh _God_!”

“’M so close, baby,” Zayn purrs into his ear, before moaning in pleasure.

Louis grips Zayn’s hair at the back of his head and thrusts his hips upward more sporadically.  “Call me ‘baby’ again,” he pleads.

Zayn sucks his lips against Louis’ jaw.  “Baby.  My beautiful— _uh_ — _baby_.”

And this is fucking _helping_.  Louis’ body is thrumming with exhilaration because of how this almost feels _real_.

Louis’ mouth hangs open and his back arches off the seat of the car as Zayn’s movements grow relentless, slamming into Louis the way he likes best.  “Holy shit—I’m—You’re so _good_ ,” Louis slurs, the breath getting knocked out of him by how fast Zayn is going.  He feels like he’s descending onto another plane as Zayn continues to moan ‘baby’ in his ear, along with the fact that Zayn is manhandling him into the position he wants—everything piled together is causing pushing Louis toward the edge.  He reaches out his hands to grip Zayn’s ass and bring him in as deep as possible.

“ _Y-Yeah,_ ” Louis moans, both of their movements growing erratic.  He chokes down the urge to wail out the one name he’s been thinking about through all of this—the person who, when he shuts his eyes, is right here with him during this blissful moment, calling him baby.

Only two more thrusts from Zayn have Louis coming all over his stomach, out of breath and sweating profusely.  He doesn’t let go of Zayn’s ass; he continues to pull him in close so the boy can reach his orgasm as well.  It doesn’t take Zayn long, and it seems like his orgasm lasts for a full ten seconds as his body struggles to come down from its shaken state.

They’re both too busy panting and sweating from the aftermath of sexual satisfaction that they don’t even dwell on how they’re going to clean this mess they’ve made of themselves.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just...yikes™


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter recap if you skipped louis' pov: louis continues getting sexually involved with zayn and is suddenly hit with the guilt that he knows he's hurting harry by doing so. he tries to temporarily resolve everything by lying when harry asks him. louis attempts to feel better by imagining harry in zayn's place when he and zayn hook up.

 

 

{Z}

Zayn spots him just as he’s closing his own locker, and he doesn’t waste any time before making his way over.  He even skips a little before he catches himself, remembering that this isn’t some cheesy romantic film he’s living in.

He still wants to skip, however, because his world is just so bright and full of rainbows and sunshine now that Louis is letting himself enjoy having Zayn.  These days Zayn can’t even think of a reason not to be happy when he has so many things going for him.

He’d nailed all of his exams with some of the highest grades the teachers have ever seen, the school year’s almost over and soon he’ll be graduating, and Louis’ finally giving him a chance.

He holds the books that were tucked under his arm out to Louis once he approaches him.  “You left these at my house the other day,” he says, grinning.

Louis grins back at him as he takes his belongings from Zayn.  “Thank you,” he replies, seeming just a little shy.

Zayn’s taking note of the fact that something’s off about Louis when his eyes fall upon the clear hickey at the bottom of the boy’s neck.  Zayn immediately points at his own neck, hoping Louis will get the hint.  Louis does, and he quickly blushes before zipping up his pullover all the way to his chin. He giggles bashfully as he looks down at his feet.  Zayn is incredibly endeared.

Zayn can’t help reaching out a finger to poke at the tip of Louis’ nose where his skin bears a hint of scarlet, probably from just having gotten inside from the cold.

Everything about this boy standing in front of Zayn just takes his breath away.  That sounds impossible, but somehow, it’s true.  There’s nothing Louis can do that wouldn’t make Zayn’s insides flutter with adoration.   _That_ ’s just how amazing he is, and Zayn feels like no matter how much he's told him—or will tell him—he’ll never fully understand.  Still, Zayn fully plans to dedicate the rest of his time on earth to helping Louis realize how truly stunning he is as a person, inside and out.

“So are you still coming during free period?” Zayn asks, scratching behind his ear.

“To work on that poster you were talking about?” Louis asks.  “Of course.”

“Okay, I’ll…see you later,” he replies, knowing this would be a perfect time for a warm hug, but instead opting for a gentle pat to his shoulder.

It’s gone unspoken, but they both know it’s for the best that they keep this thing between them private.  There’s already enough useless gossip circulating the halls of the school daily, and the last thing Zayn needs is for his name to become a part of it.  He also considers the feelings of Louis, because the boy probably doesn’t want people judging him because of what he’s done—which, Zayn might add, is _nothing_.  Louis has done _nothing_ wrong, but for now, Zayn will comply with his silent wishes and keep everything between the both of them.

Zayn’s about ten feet away from entering his first class of the day when he catches sight of Harry, walking in the opposite direction of him.  He waits for the usual look he’s been getting from Harry these days, which varies from time to time, and sure enough, he gets it when Harry narrows his eyes briefly in the boy’s direction. It’s laughable to him, how Harry isn’t even trying to disguise his distaste for Zayn anymore.  He guesses the only thing that kept him from openly hating Zayn was the fact that he was dating Louis, so now that _that’s_ gone for good, he has all the time in the world to roll his eyes at Zayn as much as he pleases.  Zayn can live with that, honestly, because at the end of the day, he gets to kiss the most delightful boy in the world in complete privacy.

There’s no way Harry could know what’s going on between them, however.  They both don’t speak to many people anyway, let alone allow others to know what’s going on in their lives sexually, so Zayn knows that can’t be the reason for Harry suddenly being so nasty towards him.  It has to be something else—probably the realization that he doesn’t like himself, or the fact that he let go of the one redeeming quality about him, or he’s simply intimidated by Zayn.  No matter what it is, as long as he isn’t stepping right up to Zayn and spitting in his face, Zayn won’t spare him any attention.

Zayn’s excited to see Louis again at the end of the day because of how he’d promised to help the art class make their environmental posters during his free period, even though he knows he’ll probably see Louis after school anyway.  He just can’t get enough of being with Louis; it’s like he doesn’t even need to smoke weed anymore to get that special high, because Louis’ always there to give it to him.

Their teacher had instructed everyone to go to the gym in order to have sufficient enough space to work on the posters, so they did as told, which later proves itself to be a huge mistake.

Zayn is waltzing into the gym alongside Louis, holding a rolled up poster in his hand as he chats to him about nothing, when he catches a glimpse of Harry on the court of the gym, doing the only thing he does decently—dribbling a ball.  There are two other players on the court as well, seemingly shooting baskets for fun as the students of the art class slow their steps upon realizing that they, in fact, don’t have the gym to themselves, as opposed to what their teacher had said.

One of the students speak up before anyone else can.  “Let’s just use this corner of the gym to make our posters.”  Everyone groans from having to crowd in one corner, when the original plan had been to have the entire gym, but they all comply nonetheless.

“You okay?” Zayn whispers to Louis as they go over to the bottom row of the bleachers to sit.

Louis nods, laughing awkwardly.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Zayn opens his mouth to reply, before shaking his head and figuring that if Louis doesn’t want to acknowledge it, he doesn’t want to either.  He rolls out the poster from his hands and sets it across the floor in front of them, centimeters away from some other girl’s foot who’s on the floor working on her own poster, and he wonders how exactly they’re going to do this with such little space.  He doesn’t get much more time to complain inside his mind before he hears a disgusting voice speaking to their entire class.

“You guys can’t be in here.  We’re having practice,” Harry says from where he’s stood in front of a group of girls who are sat on the ground.

No one says anything, instead choosing to look around at each other, unsure of what to do.  Zayn doesn’t quite know what to do either, but he _does_ know he’s not about to sit here and take orders from _Harry Styles_.

“Mrs. Stone told us to come in here, so we’re staying here,” Zayn speaks up, shocked by his own courage as all the heads turn to look at him.

Harry tilts his head to look at Zayn, his eyebrow quirking up slightly as though he hadn’t expected that, but he’s still going to rip Zayn to shreds regardless.  Then his eyes slide over to Louis, his teeth biting the inside of his cheek as he holds even tighter onto the basketball that’s in between his hands.

His expression is harder when he focuses his attention back on Zayn.  “No, you’re leaving.”

Zayn’s just opening his mouth when Liam jogs up behind Harry, setting a hand on his shoulder and speaking in his ear.  “Just leave them alone.  Let Coach deal with it when he gets here.”

Harry viciously shakes Liam’s hand off of him, taking a challenging step toward Zayn, even though there are still many feet of space in between them.  Some of the students start to murmur among themselves again, and the dribbles of the other basketball player resume, but Zayn continues to stare at Harry, not backing down just yet.  He can see Louis starting to bite his nail in his peripheral.

“No, I’ll deal with it.  Isn’t that what a captain’s for?” he hears Harry say to Liam, right before he turns back to Zayn.

“We’re not leaving, so you can take your entitled ass back to other side of the court with the rest of your _team_ ,” Zayn says, mocking the last word.

“Who exactly do you think you’re talking to?” Harry asks, his voice scarily calm as he strokes his chin.  His voice is loud and thunderous when he speaks again.  “Who the _fuck_ are you talking to?”

“Nobody now, because I’m done with this conversation,” Zayn says, turning his attention back to his poster that’s on the ground.

“ _Fuck_ you, Zayn,” Harry spits, his voice filled with hate.

“Harry…” Zayn hears Louis plead, his voice weak.

“ _No_ , Louis,” Harry replies, pressing his fingers against his scalp as anger starts to consume his entire body.  “I’m fucking done letting this happen.  I’m done with just _standing_ here and taking it!”

“Harry,” Liam says sternly from where he’s stood behind him.

Everyone can clearly see that Harry’s getting a little _too_ angry for his own good, and it’s amusing for Zayn as well as slightly terrifying.

“No, no,” Harry starts, shaking his head as he looks down at his fists that are balling up tightly.  “I’m gonna punch him.  I’m gonna—it’s gonna happen.  I can feel it.”

Zayn sucks in a quick breath through his nose as he watches Harry shift on his feet, starting to crack his knuckles.

Zayn somehow gets the courage to stand on his feet, setting his jaw tight.

“No, Zayn,” Louis says through a cracked voice.

Zayn takes the one step down from the bleachers anyway, making slow strides toward Harry as the boy’s nostrils flare in his direction.

“You’re gonna hit me?” Zayn asks, his voice low and daring.

“It seems like that’s what you want,” Harry replies, his tone alarmingly deeper.

Zayn gets up close to Harry, their noses nearly touching as he crosses his arms in front of himself.  “Hit me, then.”

Harry’s quiet, yet still managing to sound threatening when he speaks.  “Not until you hit me first.”

Zayn shakes his head as he purses his lips, bringing his face in closer and practically talking to Harry’s jaw.  “ _You_ were the one claiming you were gonna punch me.  So do it.”

“You want me to throw away my future so bad by getting expelled right before graduation, right?” Harry asks, a cold laugh escaping his lips.  “Just touch me and I’ll have you on the floor.  Promise.”  He nudges his shoulder forward, knocking Zayn back a bit before he catches himself and comes right back into Harry’s personal space.

Zayn knows Harry won’t hit him, so he has no idea why he’s trying to act like maybe he will.  Still, the sight of Harry’s tight fists at his sides when Zayn looks down makes him gulp just a bit.  Zayn’s going to keep taunting the hell out of him anyway, and who knows, maybe he’ll get his ass handed to him on a silver platter, but at least Louis will get to witness how much of a monster the guy he loved was.

“ _Do_ it then!” Zayn yells, surprised by his own voice.  If he didn’t know himself he’d say he definitely sounds a little tough.

One bump against Harry’s chest causes the boy to release his fists, gripping a violent hand on Zayn’s shoulder and nearly cutting off all circulation while his other hand comes up to gather a chunk of Zayn's shirt, jerking his body forward.  Zayn gulps and prepares himself for the worst, right before he feels Harry’s hands ripped away from his body.

“Fucking _stop!_ ” he hears, and he hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes until he opens them, finding Louis now in front of Harry.  His hands are on Harry’s chest, making it obvious he’d pushed Harry back in order to free his hands from Zayn.

“Don’t do this!” Louis yells, and Zayn knows there are tears welling in his eyes even though he can only see the back of Louis’ head.  Harry’s eyes aren’t focused on Louis at all, because of how they’re too busy sending Zayn a death glare.

“Harry!” Louis yells, his voice strained and sad.  “Look at me!”

Harry pushes Louis’ hand off of him with a slight aggression that almost drives Zayn to knock him out right there in front of everyone.  His next few words seal the deal, however.

“Fuck off, Louis,” Harry spits, his eyes finally moving to look at the boy right in front of him.  His tone is so genuine and full of pure distaste that even Zayn has to pause for a moment to process everything.

The entire gym quiets, and all Zayn can hear is the sound of a basketball slowly dribbling to a stop.  Liam’s mouth is open, Zayn’s mouth is open, their other teammate whom of which Zayn doesn’t care for’s mouth is open, and Zayn’s pretty sure even Obama’s mouth is open.

Louis’ hands leave Harry’s chest as they fall to his sides.

Zayn lets his anger get the best of him when he charges toward Harry, his fist fully prepared to meet his nose.  “You awful fucking—“

His plans are ruined when one of the students get up to hold him from behind, keeping his fist from colliding with Harry’s oh-so-perfect face and leaving him disfigured.

He’s fully set on shaking himself free and shoving this person off of him, before he realizes it’s a girl from his class, looking at him with fear in her eyes as she holds his arms back.  “Zayn.  You have a full scholarship.  Don’t ruin it,” she says quietly.

“I can’t _believe_ you would actually sit there and fucking lie to me, Louis!” Harry yells, his eyes wet and red as he stares at the boy.

“What?” Louis asks.  “What are you talking—“

“I’m talking about _you!_ ” Harry practically cries, pointing a hard finger at Louis’ face.  “Lying to my face!”  Harry wipes at his wet eyes and brings his tone down to a hard, quiet level.  “After all the time we’ve spent together, you think I don’t know you enough to realize when you’re _lying_?  Really, Louis?”

Zayn’s fist unclenches as he blinks at the whole ordeal, suddenly lost on what’s going on.

“You lied to me Louis, and I will _never_ forgive you for that,” Harry chokes out, his pointer finger touching Louis’ chest.  He once again turns his attention to Zayn, motioning his hand in the boy’s general direction.  “And for this fucking loser.  I expected better from you."

So Harry knows.  He definitely knows.

How does he know?

Louis’ lips are parted as he tries to form words, but it seems they get caught in his throat as Harry sadly shakes his head at him.  Zayn doesn’t _fully_ know what’s going on, but it’s making Louis insecure and small, so he wants it to end right _now_.

Harry gives him one last headshake, his voice whispered and hurt when he says “Fuck off,” one last time, before jogging away in the direction of the locker rooms, sniffing and wiping away at his face.

There’s a lingering silence in the gym once everyone hears the sound of the locker room door closing, and Zayn’s eyes watch Louis as he starts to cave in on himself, wrapping his arms around his middle as his shoulders begin to shake.

Eventually Liam jogs off toward the locker room as well, and Zayn takes that as his chance to come up behind Louis and set both hands on his shoulders, comforting him in any way he can.  Louis doesn’t move at all as he stands there, blinking away the tears and keeping his eyes glued to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

{L}

Louis is over it.

He’s over the pain, he’s over the struggling, he’s over the awkwardness, he’s over the self-deprecating, and most of all, he’s over staying stuck on Harry.  It’s like he’s been fighting in a battle that’s been drawn out for far too long, and he’s ready for it to just fucking _end_.  He can’t take this anymore.  He’s pretty sure he doesn’t even have the mental capacity for all of this.

He’s certain he looks a mess when he drags himself into class, his hair disheveled and his face resembling a corpse as he enters the atmosphere of students and teachers who have to witness him this way.  He doesn’t care about how he looks anymore, and he’s about two more emotional breakdowns from not caring about how he smells.

It’s the class he has with Harry, and at this point, he doesn’t even care about what people will think if he doesn’t sit next to Harry, because he just _can’t_ do it.  Yes, he’s proud of himself for ever having the courage to do so after their breakup, but he can’t do it anymore.  He refuses to put himself through fifty minutes of torture for another day.

He doesn’t glance Harry’s way as he spots a seat in the very back corner of the classroom, empty and pleading for him to sit down right on top of it.

When he sits, he brings his knees up to his chest and places his feet on the seat, burying his face in his legs and proceeding to sulk during the entire period.  He’s surprised Mr. Fages doesn’t call him out for keeping his face hidden and seemingly sleeping during the entire lecture.

Piling on top of the heap that is Louis’ misfortune, he finds out the library is also closed for the day, and therefore he cannot spend lunch in there “studying” in order to avoid being in the same vicinity as Harry.

He sulks some more as he enters the cafeteria, not even contemplating actually getting something to eat before choosing a seat at the very end of an empty table, placing his head in his hands and wondering when he’d gotten a migraine.

He hates how no matter what someone’s going through in life, no matter the hardships they’re currently facing or the heart wrenching obstacles that make it hard for them to do something as simple as breathe, life still goes on.  Everyone still has to do things they don’t want to do, because life isn’t going to halt for anyone, no matter how dead and unmotivated they feel inside.  It sucks, it’s unfair, and it’s the reason Louis is even at school when he’d much rather stay in bed and cry.

His headache worsens as he continues to rest his head in his palms, the loud sounds of eighty different conversations in the giant cafeteria filling his ears.  He wishes it would all stop and he could experience silence for once.  He wants to go home.

He’s tired, and he’s certain it’s not in the “sleepy” kind of way.  If anything, he’s tired from all the crying he’s been doing lately, barely ever giving his eyes a rest before the pain hits him again.  However, he still wants to sleep, because he knows that sleep will at least help him escape the stress the world has been inflicting upon him lately.  Unless he dreams about it, which has happened.  Of course.

He feels a hand shake his shoulder, and although it’s gentle, it’s not gentle _enough_ to be Zayn, so Louis doesn’t shift one bit.

“Go away.  We’re closed,” Louis groans, keeping his head buried in his hands.

“Louis,” he hears, causing him to lift his head up hesitantly.  His eyes fall upon Liam’s face, uncomfortably close to him as the boy takes a seat next to him.

Louis just sits there and blinks at him, because this makes no sense, and he’s tired of dealing with things that don’t make any sense.

“I’m…I feel really bad about everything,” Liam says slowly, his knuckles settled on top of the lunch table.  “You don’t deserve to be in the middle of it.”

“Thank you for your…I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be thanking you for, actually,” Louis says matter-of-factly.

Liam laughs for a half second as he looks down at his hands, then back at Louis.  “I don’t know.  I just feel bad.  You’re a good person and you don’t deserve this.”

Louis bites down on his lip as he thinks about that statement.  “Maybe I do.”

Liam furrows his eyebrows, taken aback by Louis’ words.  “You don’t.  Don’t think that.”

Louis nods his head even though he doesn’t change his stance on how he feels as though maybe he deserves all of this pain.  He’s the one who brought it upon himself after all, right?

“Things will work out,” Liam says, a tiny smile creeping onto his lips.

“Work out?” Louis asks incredulously, raising his eyebrows.  “ _Work out?_ ” he repeats a little louder.  He ruffles up the textbook in front of him that’s messy with loose papers sticking out of it from every side.  “I can’t even fucking— _concentrate_ on any of my school work because I can’t stop feeling like a horrible piece of shit for betraying his trust!  And now I have to plan my entire year at uni around avoiding the _one_ person I was going to spend my time with there!  So no, Liam, I _don’t_ think it’s going to work out, so you can take your cliché phrases and words of encouragement, and shove them up your _ass_!”

Liam sits there with his mouth agape, shocked and small as Louis glares at him.  Louis eventually shakes his head, slapping his palm against his forehead as he starts to realize how harsh he was.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Louis says, his eyes already starting to fill with tears.  “I just—It’s so hard.  I can’t do this,” Louis continues, now full on sobbing in the corner of the cafeteria.  He quickly wipes at his tears with the sleeves of his jacket and hopes no one has already spotted him and pointed him out.

“It’s okay, Louis,” Liam assures him, reaching out and stroking the back of Louis’ hair, down to the nape of his neck.  “You’ll get through this.  I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks.  Really,” Louis says genuinely, sniffling as he looks at Liam.

 

~*~

 

Louis’ realized long ago that he was too hot after covering himself in many layers of blankets, but now he’s too lazy to move, so he stays put from where he’s sat on the living room couch.  He stares at the blank television in front of him, because he’s too lazy to turn it on, and he also knows there’s nothing he really cares to watch right now.  He’s not sure if he’s been sitting like this for one hour or five, but regardless, there’s no other way of which he’s really of use in this world, so he’ll be perfectly content sitting like this for the next four hundred years.

A tear prickles in the corner of his eye as he stares at the black T.V. screen, and he ignores it because of how he's become so accustomed to how unnecessarily often he cries now.  He wonders how his tear ducts haven’t run out of water yet.

He wants to stop crying, but he knows wishing such is no use.  He wants everything he’s ever done to be erased, so he can start off with a clean slate and karma will stop trying to beat him senseless.

He doesn’t get too far into self deprecation before he hears the doorbell ring, causing him to groan.  He really should’ve stared at a blank television upstairs, in his bedroom.

He doesn’t stir, hoping that whoever’s at the door would just leave, but when the doorbell rings again, he figures that won’t be the case.

“Door’s open!” he yells, burying himself deeper in blankets.  His mum is going to kill him if this is a serial killer.  That is, if the serial killer doesn’t kill him first.

He doesn’t turn his head to see who it is once the door opens, even though he knows the pure silence should alarm him.  It probably _would_ alarm him if he didn’t have a friend who’s extremely silent in everything he does, causing Louis to know exactly who it is.

“Zayn,” Louis states, his tone neutral.

“Louis,” he hears in response, right before the boy comes into view and sits on the coffee table in front of him.  His cordial expression softens into a sad one when he catches sight of Louis’ face.  “How are you?”

Only Louis’ nose and eyes are visible with how efficiently he’s consumed himself with the blankets.  He shrugs in response to Zayn.

“Lou,” Zayn says pleadingly, settling a hand where he thinks Louis’ knee is.  “Talk to me.  You haven’t spoken to me in a week.”

Louis shrugs again.

“Please,” Zayn says, his eyes bearing a hint of pain.  “Don’t stop talking to me, Louis.  I can’t—just _don’t_.  I’m begging you.”

Louis doesn’t offer him anything in response as he swallows a tiny lump in his throat.

“I don’t think you understand how much your presence means to me, Louis,” Zayn starts, his eyes trained on Louis’.  “I care about you so much—more than anything.  I _care_ about you.  You have someone who cares.  Don’t push him away.”

Louis’ unprepared for how weak and raspy his voice is.  “I’m not.”

He watches Zayn’s exhale of relief as the tension starts to leave his body.  “Okay.  Good,” he replies carefully.  He gestures at Louis, his expression a tad bit disappointed.  “Is this what you’ve been doing all Saturday?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“No.”

“Showered?”

Louis shakes his head.

“Louis, you can’t—“

“Look, at least I’m not out robbing a bank or pushing little kids on the ground to relieve my pain.  Stop judging how I deal with this.”

“I’m not judging,” Zayn says.  “This is me being someone who cares about you, worries about your health.  You need to eat something.”

“I will.”

Zayn sighs, his head shaking faintly as he stares at Louis.  He reaches his hand out and buries it in the jungle of Louis’ blankets, somehow finding Louis’ hand and caressing it in his own.  The contact brings Louis to soften a bit, exhaling through his nose and allowing himself to relish in the feeling of Zayn rubbing his thumb over his skin.

“Don’t do this,” Zayn says.

“Do what?” Louis asks, his tone less defensive and hostile.

“Beat yourself up because of what Harry said.  He’s just being a bully and trying to make you feel bad,” Zayn explains, holding Louis’ hand a little tighter.  “That’s his way of still trying to have some type of authority over you even though you’re not with him anymore.  Louis, you’re not doing anything wrong.  _Please_ tell me you understand that.”

Louis can’t look Zayn in the eye anymore as he squeezes his mouth shut, completely torn about what to do or how to feel.

Zayn laces their fingers together now, his voice more hushed and broken.  “Louis, _please_.”  Louis knows he should at least grant Zayn some eye contact right now, but he can’t.  His eyes physically won’t allow him to.

“Don’t let Harry make you think being with me is wrong,” Zayn chokes out, clearly seconds away from sobbing.  “Don’t let him continue to make the decisions for you.”

Louis’ hearing what Zayn’s saying, and he’s surely not about to let Harry control his life, but it’s not about that.  He feels like this isn’t _about_ Harry controlling his life, and it never was.  Harry had a right not to like Zayn, and he only told Louis he didn’t want them hanging out together because Louis drove him into a corner and forced him to.  There’s no changing how Harry feels about a person, and for Louis to get mad at him for simply not liking Zayn, that means that Louis was, in a way, trying to control him too.  He couldn’t force Harry to like Zayn, just like Harry couldn’t force him not to hang out with Zayn.

Nevertheless, Louis manages to tear his eyes away from wherever they're focused in the open air, and finally meets Zayn’s desperate eyes.  Zayn sniffles and starts to grin gratefully, bringing Louis’ hand out from where it’s hidden in the blankets and pressing his lips against his knuckles.  Louis’ eyes widen at the gesture, even though Zayn doesn’t see him because he’s too busy kissing his hand.

“Am I walking into a soap opera?” Lottie asks, and Louis turns his head to find her hopping down the stairs.

“No,” Zayn laughs, releasing Louis’ hand after giving it one last squeeze.  “Louis’ drowning in self pity and it’s all Harry’s fault.”

The blame being pinned to Harry stings Louis a bit, but he keeps quiet, opting not to counter any of Zayn’s claims.  His lips fall into an involuntary pout as he sits there, suddenly getting the urge to cry again.

“Aw Louis,” Lottie says with a sigh, taking his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead from where she’s leaning over the back of the couch.  “I know you probably think I’d never admit it, but I truly do hate seeing you like this.”  She holds Louis’ head and continues to stroke his hair as he starts to sniffle a bit.

“I hope this is setting an example for you of what not to get yourself involved with,” Louis says dryly as Lottie continues to card her fingers through his hair.

“Don’t get caught up in boy drama.  Got it,” Lottie replies.

 

~*~

 

It’s another day in the library, and Louis’ face is buried in his textbook—literally.  He hadn’t even tried to disguise himself as a student who’s studying, and instead chose to open his textbook and immediately let his forehead lay against the pages.

He knows classes are almost starting back up, and he has about five minutes to pack up his stuff and leave, but he hasn’t got the motivation anymore.  He would gladly stay here and waste his life away if it were possible.  He even hears the librarian call his name and warn him to get to class before he’s marked late, but he doesn’t budge.

He remains perfectly still until he hears movement from somewhere near him, and quickly realizes it’s someone pulling out a chair across from him.  Slowly, his head lifts up, exposing his red eyes and bags to whoever this person is in front of him.

Dreadful, tired eyes meet Harry’s, which blink at him boredly.

The library is almost empty now because everyone’s worried about getting to class, but _of course_ Harry isn’t, and would much rather offer Louis his unimpressed looks as they sit in silence.

Harry suddenly starts counting things off on his fingers.

“I need my jackets back, my old jersey, _all_ of my sweaters, that keychain I gave you in tenth grade when you first started driving, any letters I’ve written you, my…” his words get lost in Louis’ ears as he stares at him, struggling to convince himself if this is actually happening right now.  No _way_ is this happening right now—he has to be dreaming.  Even as Louis contemplates pinching himself, Harry is _still_ going, his voice dangerously calm as though he’s reading terms and conditions.

“…and lastly, that snow globe I gave you on Christmas,” Louis hears him say once he tunes him back in.  Louis opens his mouth to speak, but it seems Harry isn’t finished as he lifts his hand in the air to motion as he speaks.  “For you…to do the one thing I always told myself you’d never do,” Harry starts, laughing dryly.  “It makes me more mad at myself than I am at you.  I feel so stupid,” he says, his eyes growing red rimmed.  “I always forced myself to let it go, told myself ‘Louis said he doesn’t like Zayn in that way, so I should believe him’ but I was just an idiot for believing that, right?” Harry asks, voice melancholy as his eyes gloss over.  “I was _right_ to be paranoid, wasn’t I?  But you made me think I shouldn’t have been.  Never _again_ will I ignore my intuition.”

“It wasn’t like that when we were together—“

“Did you have sex with him?” Harry asks bluntly, his eyes dead set on Louis.  “Just go ahead and tell me now, and don’t even think about lying.”

A long moment of silence passes between them, Louis trying to break their eye contact, but falling back under Harry’s hard stare.  Louis’ bottom lip starts to tremble as he parts his lips, and then closes them again, feeling completely defeated.

Harry’s lip trembles too, and his eyes properly start to fill with tears as he tries to maintain a strong composure.  Louis has never seen Harry so hurt, bruised, and completely defenseless as he sits there and slowly starts to break down in front of Louis.  God, Louis is a horrible fucking person.  Why couldn’t he just listen to his conscience instead of his dick for once?  He deserves anything bad that comes his way.  He fucking _deserves—_

He suddenly allows himself to remember what Zayn said.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that there’s no reason Harry should sit here and make him feel bad about this.  They’re _not_ together and haven’t been for a while, yet here Louis is, feeling like a total piece of shit for something he’s allowed to do.  He’s _allowed_ to hook up with other people if he’s single.

Why does he feel so bad, though?

“Wait, Harry,” Louis starts, shaking his head even as Harry continues to sniffle.  “This _isn’t_ my fault.  Don’t try to twist this into more ways you can place the blame on me.”

“No one said I was.”

“We’re broken up,” Louis says, his tone desperate.  “ _Why_ are you making me feel bad?”

“Um, you _fucked_ the one guy you told me not to worry about during our relationship!” Harry snaps, and Louis hopes the librarian isn’t nearby.  “How the fuck am I _supposed_ to feel?”

“You’re acting like I fucking cheated on you!” Louis yells, flailing his arms.  “I’m sitting here, trying to tell you that not _once_ did I ever think about hooking up with Zayn while we were together!  It didn’t even cross my _mind_ , Harry!”

“Yeah right,” Harry replies, before bringing his voice back down to a calm, bored tone.  “Bring my shit by my house tomorrow.  Thank you.”  He pushes himself up from the table, heading towards the direction of the exit.

Louis thinks about tomorrow.  He knows that today is the last day of January, meaning tomorrow is most definitely Harry’s birthday.  He wonders if there’s a certain reason Harry has chosen that particular day to ask Louis to drop off all of their sentimental belongings.

He stands up from his seat and jogs up behind Harry before he can leave the library.

Louis reaches out a weak hand and grabs Harry’s arm in order to halt him.

“Do you still love me?” Louis asks, insecurity evident in his voice.

Harry turns around, first glancing down at where Louis is still touching him with a frail hand, and then staring at Louis with a stern expression on his face, complete with tear stains resting upon his cheeks.  “Of course I do.  That’s why I feel so pathetic.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way,” Louis whispers, taking a step closer to him.  He grips Harry’s bicep more firmly, his eyes falling down to Harry’s parted lips.  “I don’t want you to feel that way.”

Harry takes another step, causing them to be stood extremely close, Louis feeling Harry’s exhales on the tip of his nose.  Louis doesn’t move an inch as Harry’s eyes move down to his lips as well, because he wouldn’t dare ruin whatever’s about to happen.

Harry leans in, and Louis slowly closes his eyes, hoping that he’ll finally get the feeling of Harry’s lips against his again, healing and refreshing him like in all those fairytales where the prince kisses the princess and saves her.

He’s so in love that he’s resulted to comparing his love for Harry to heterosexual classics…

Instead of kissing him, however, Harry pulls back, giving Louis one more miserable look before turning around and pushing open the exit door, leaving Louis stood there, breathless.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'm here to inform you that there is only one more chapter left, and then this story is done forever! and i know you're probably thinking "wtf the fuck how could things possibly get better from here" but don't worry, because the next chapter is very long and i promise everything will come together. i hope you all enjoyed this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it. continue being amazing <3


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

{Z}

Zayn notices his knuckles starting to whiten where they’re gripping his steering wheel, so he tries to release some of the tension in his body by breathing in and out.

He reminds himself that there’s nothing for him to be tense about, and that Louis is just taking some time.  Eventually, he’ll come to his senses like Zayn trusts him to.  Everything is fine.

He thinks about all the times he’s worried about things ending between Louis and him, just to find out he was freaking out about nothing, which was every single time.  He thought Louis would’ve cut him off because of Harry’s wishes; Louis ended up breaking up with Harry.  He thought Louis would need more time after the split before warming up to Zayn; he kissed him out of nowhere.  Now, he thinks Louis’ rethinking everything they’ve done after his breakup; he just has to cross his fingers and hope he’s overreacting about this one too.

Louis hasn’t even kissed him since the whole debacle in the gymnasium, but Zayn doesn’t let that bother him too much.  What _does_ get to him a bit is how little Louis has been able to look him in the eyes recently.

The only person he can really place the blame on is Harry, and he gets an intense itch to tackle the boy to the ground anytime he passes by him in the halls, but he decides he’ll leave it alone and allow Louis to handle everything how he feels best.  Louis probably wouldn’t like it if Zayn punched his ex boyfriend in the face, no matter how horrible, conniving, and manipulative he is as person.

When will Louis simply learn that Harry isn’t equivalent to this perfect, imaginary perception Louis has built up for him?  The boy needs to open his eyes and see Harry for the person he _really_ is, which is a guy who doesn’t deserve an ounce of Louis’ sympathy.

Zayn realizes he’s been sitting in his car for about five minutes, staring into space instead of turning on the ignition.

He turns his head to the side, his gaze falling upon the bouquet of daisies placed in the passenger seat.  He’d gotten it for Louis as a small gift, just because the boy had been so down lately.  He plans to give it to him, that is, if he ever manages to calm his thoughts and start up the car.

He hopes that he’ll finally get to see Louis smile and provide rain after such a long drought of not seeing him happy.  A visual in his mind of the shimmer Louis’ eyes will get once he sees the daisies has Zayn smiling dreamily, probably looking like a lovesick fool.

Even if Louis’ smile lasts for half a second, Zayn will soak it up like sponge, melting into the way Louis makes him feel lighter with every flash of his perfect teeth.  The boy never fails to spark that part inside Zayn that he didn’t even know he had until he heard Louis laugh for the first time.  He is _so_ sprung over him it almost hurts.

He and Louis have already planned to hang out for the day, so he figures Louis will see it as soon as he opens Zayn’s passenger door.  He wants it to be more of a surprise, however, so he takes it and tucks it under the seat, so maybe he can pop the flowers up in his face at some other point during the evening.

It’s almost six pm on a surprisingly warm, Saturday evening, and Zayn couldn’t be more grateful that Louis’ finally choosing to get out of the house and do something with Zayn.  He has no idea of what they’re going to do, but he’s sure they’ll figure something out as the night goes on.

Zayn eventually musters up the strength to start up his car and begin his journey to Louis’ house.  He’s giddy with anticipation as he jogs up the steps toward Louis’ front door, eager as always to see his boy’s splendid face.

When the door opens, however, most of Louis’ face appears to be blocked by the large box of random stuff he’s holding in his arms.

“Um…” Zayn starts, scratching the side of his head.

Louis struggles with the box for a bit, resulting in a t-shirt falling over the edge of it.  Zayn picks it up off the floor before putting it back in the box and offering Louis some of his help by holding one end of the box.

“Sorry,” Louis says, grunting as he repositions his hands under the box.  “Can you help me put this in your trunk?”

“I thought we were just hanging out today,” Zayn says with a sigh, still proceeding to help Louis carry his box to the car.

“We are,” Louis replies, moving to set the box on top of Zayn’s car.  He taps it once before replying to Zayn.  “I just have to, uh…get these to Harry first.”

“So,” Zayn starts, setting one hand on top of his car as he looks at Louis carefully.  “This is all of it.”

Louis nods.  “Yep.”

“And after this, you’ll be completely done with Harry?”

“Yep.  This is the only thing keeping me…” he knits his eyebrows, probably trying to word everything correctly.  “Physically connected to him.  After I give it back to him, I see no reason for us not to be done for good.”

Zayn smiles at him, feeling proud of how the boy is finally pushing himself to let go of Harry.  “I’m happy for you.”

Louis looks down at his feet, kicking at a rock on the ground.  “Me too.”

They eventually get the box into Zayn’s trunk with some difficulty, and once they’re in the car, Zayn somehow manages to feel glad about driving to Harry’s house, because he knows this is going to be the first and the last time.

“I’ll ring the doorbell and make him come get it out of the trunk himself,” Louis says as he opens the door.  “Just wait here.”

Zayn nods his head and watches as Louis heads for Harry’s door.  He crosses his fingers Harry will just take his things and go, and that he won’t try to feed Louis anymore of his hurtful comments before doing so.

Louis stands at the door for quite a while after ringing, and after a minute or two it becomes clear no one is even home.  That is, if the lack of cars in the driveway and the complete absence of lights inside the house didn’t already give that away.

Zayn huffs exhaustedly and opens up his own door to let himself out of the stuffy car.

“He’s not home?” Zayn asks, placing his hands in the pockets of his sweats as he walks up behind Louis.

“I guess not,” Louis says with a shrug, twiddling his thumbs in front of him.  “He told me to drop it off here.”

Zayn rolls his eyes as he shifts on his feet.  “Can’t say I’m surprised he’s not here.”

The hostility in Zayn’s voice seems to go right over Louis’ head as the boy stares at his feet.  His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks.  “You know today’s his birthday?”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, not exactly sure of what he’s supposed to do with this information.  “I didn’t know…”

Louis shakes his head back to life, looking up at Zayn as he reaches into his pocket.  “Well, I have to find out where he is.”

“You’re gonna call him?”

“No…I deleted his number,” Louis says as he starts to pace back and forth aimlessly, bringing his phone up to his ear.  “I’m calling one of his teammates.”

Zayn sighs heavily.  “Louis…”

Louis smacks his teeth as he brings his phone back out in front of his face.  “Chase isn’t answering.  Let me try Liam.”

“Why don’t you just leave it on his doorstep?” Zayn asks, his tone slightly harsh.

 _“No_ ,” Louis replies, continuing to hold the phone next to his ear.  “Someone might steal it.”

“No one’s going to steal—“

“Liam.  Hi,” Louis starts, an actual smile taking its place on his lips which completely throws Zayn off.  “Do you know where Harry is?  I—what is all that noise?  Anyway, I have some stuff to give him.”

Zayn rolls his eyes for the second time, setting his gaze on the driveway as Louis continues to speak.

“Oh,” Louis says, his grateful state starting to fall as his feet come to a halt.  “Well.  Send me the address.”

Zayn puffs out air from between his cheeks as he grows completely fed up with the direction this night is already headed.  He speaks up as soon as Louis ends the call.  “No one’s going to steal the box if you leave it on the doorstep!”

“There’s a chance for _anything_ Zayn!” Louis yells incredulously.  “Tonight might be the night that someone decides to come over and steal this entire box of memories and valuables for themselves!  Is that what you want, Zayn?  For the box to fall into some other person’s hands, making Harry hate me even more than he already does?”

Zayn blinks at him, suddenly at a loss for words and unable to respond to such a string of questions.  It’s off-putting, how passionate Louis is about this, but Zayn’s going to let it drag out, just for the sake of eventually getting to see it end at some point in the future.  What he really wants to say is _Who cares if Harry hates you_ , but he bites his tongue on that one.  “No.  I don’t want that.”

Louis steps toward Zayn and touches his arm, giving him a soft, pleading look.  “Just come with me.  Please.  I just—I _need_ to get his stuff to him so I can be free of this.”

Zayn tries not to clench his jaw as he gives into Louis, nodding and following him back to the car.

He comes to find out Harry is in fact in a hotel suite because he’s apparently throwing a hotel party, and he calmly sits through Louis’ ballistic rant all the way there.

“Can’t believe he’s _actually_ having a hotel party,” Louis hisses, before laughing into his hand.  This is probably the fifth time Louis has said this on the ride there, and all Zayn has done is nod his head in agreement.

“A fucking disgusting, raunchy, nasty _hotel_ party, and he didn’t even tell me!” Louis yells, scrunching his hand in his hair.  “He had the nerve to tell me to bring his stuff to his house when he _knew_ he wouldn’t even be there!  He _wanted_ me to know where he was!”

“Louis, don’t read into it too much,” Zayn says gently, finally pulling into the parking lot of the hotel building.  “Focus more on wiping your hands clean of all of this as soon as you get his stuff to him.”

“But it seems like he’s _trying_ to annoy the shit out of me, Zayn,” Louis spits, opening his door before Zayn has even fully parked the car.  He slams the door behind himself with alarming strength, and Zayn sinks into his seat as he sits in the newfound silence of the car.  The silence lasts for about five seconds before the door is swung back open, and Louis is popping his head in.  “Why are you still in the car?”

“I was just gonna wait for you,” Zayn says innocently.

“Come with me,” Louis replies.

Zayn shakes his head.  “Why?  I really don’t want to walk through a sloppy high school party—“

“ _Zayn_ ,” Louis says, biting his bottom lip shyly.  “I feel like I might…walk in on him doing something.  If you’re there I’ll be stronger.”

Zayn knows he can’t stay behind with how insecure Louis is looking right now.  He wishes Louis would just throw the box on the floor of the parking lot so they can drive off and go watch a movie or something, but that clearly isn’t going to be the case.

He sighs as he pushes his door open, stepping out into the nighttime.

“In and out, yeah?” Zayn asks as he presses the lock button on his keys.

“Of course,” Louis nods, catching up to Zayn and gripping his arm, as though he’s looking for comfort out of fear of whatever they’re about to step into.

They enter through the lobby and take the elevator up to the seventh floor in order to reach the hotel suite, and with every step that causes the music to become more evident in Zayn’s ears, he grows more disgusted by Harry and everything he stands for.  He _knows_ how much this hurts Louis, yet he still does it anyway.  Why he takes joy out of making such an amazing boy miserable, Zayn has no idea.

Zayn feels cold when Louis lets go of him to knock on the door of the suite, but he allows the feeling to reside. Louis knocks rigorously and impatiently, still fidgeting on his feet as he waits for the door to open.

When the door finally opens, surprisingly and _very_ unfortunately, it’s Harry.  Not only is the music coming from the suite so loud Zayn can no longer hear his thoughts, but Harry is also completely shirtless.

His eyes are huge at first when he sees Louis, and then his gaze slides over to Zayn and he immediately deflates, stepping back and moving to close the door again.  Louis intercepts him by placing his foot in the way of the door, preventing it from shutting.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis says, pushing the door open.  Harry gives up his effort of shutting the door, and allows himself to be dragged out of the room by his arm.

“ _What?_ ” Harry asks, sending one last glare Zayn’s way before staring back at Louis.

Louis crosses his arms.  “Why the fuck did you tell me to bring your stuff by your house if you knew you wouldn’t be there?”

Harry scratches behind his neck.  “I guess I forgot.”

“Yeah _right_ you forgot,” Louis spits.  “As if you didn’t want me to show up at your house to eventually find out you were having this hotel-orgy thing.”

“It’s not a fucking _orgy_!”

Zayn can’t stop himself from intervening.  “I suggest you lower your voice.”

“And I suggest you crawl back to the dump you came from, but—“

“You’re literally garbage, Harry.  If anyone came from the dump, it’s definitely you.”

“I’m about five seconds away from finishing what I started in the gym, so I suggest you not,” Harry says, rubbing his palm down his face.

Zayn pushes his sleeves up in preparation.  “Well we’re not in school now buddy, so I have no problem throwing the first punch.”

Harry brings himself close to Zayn just like the first time, growling in his face as speaks.  “Do it Zayn, I _dare_ you—“

“Shut _up_!” Louis practically screams, causing Zayn a momentary satisfaction out of thinking he’s speaking only to Harry.  “ _Both_ of you!” he continues, pointing two fingers at the both of them as he steps in front.

Harry huffs.  “He _clearly_ started it.”

“Don’t act like this isn’t all _your_ fault,” Zayn scoffs.

“It’s _both_ of your faults, you immature _brats!”_ Louis yells.

Zayn stands there with his lips parted, truly shocked from what Louis’ just said.  Immature _brats?_ That’s…unexpected.

Louis’ nearly breathless as he continues to scream.  “ _Both_ of you have hated each other for as long as I can remember, and quite frankly, it’s getting old!  Just _get over it_ already!”

They’re both quiet as they stare at Louis, who's red faced as he takes a moment to catch his breath.  Zayn doesn’t know what to say at this point, just like he hasn’t known what to say at many points during this evening.  It seems he and Harry are actually on the same page about something for once, because he appears speechless as well.

Louis abruptly takes each of their arms in his hands, dragging them down to the very end of the hall where there are folded chairs stacked up against a dark corner.  He lets go of them in order to take two of the chairs and unfold them, setting them up so that they face each other.

He points a stern finger at the chairs, glancing between Harry and Zayn.  “ _Sit_.”

They hesitantly do as told, even though Zayn’s fully against whatever’s about to happen right now.

“Now I am going to _sit here_ until you guys settle whatever the _fuck_ this feud between you two is about,” Louis says, sitting down on the floor in front of them and crossing his legs.  “I don’t care if we’re here for the whole damn night.”

All three of them are quiet after that, because Louis is now staring at them patiently, even though they both have absolutely nothing to say.  Zayn refuses to speak, because he knows Harry is only going to talk over him and twist everything into a way to make Zayn look bad.  He’s done arguing with Harry and giving him what he wants, so _no_ , he’s not going to speak.

He looks over at Harry to find him looking down at his clasped hands, his elbows rested on his knees.

Zayn huffs out a heavy breath as they sit there in more silence, but he’s not backing down.  He’s _not_ going to say anything, no matter how immature that makes him look.

“Well…” he hears Harry start, and he raises his eyebrow at the fact that the boy is actually speaking.  Everyone’s attention is directed to him now, waiting for whatever it is he’s about to say.

Harry stares at the ground once he starts to talk.  “I just…I guess I saw what you and Louis had and it made me insecure.”

He’s completely silent after those few words, and both Zayn and Louis share a glance.  Louis stares at Harry again, his eyebrows knit together.

“What are you talking about, Harry?  You were my _boyfriend_.”

“I know, but,” Harry starts, rubbing at his nose and still refusing to make eye contact with anyone.  “It was a different kind of relationship with you and him.  I felt like you were more cautious around me, and let loose around him.  I was…I was kind of jealous.  I guess.”

Zayn is stunned as he raises his eyebrows.  “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughs, dryly.  “I’ve always been jealous.  From the first moment I got to physically see this ‘Zayn’ Louis had made himself friends with, I was just jealous, because, obviously…” he says, gesturing in Zayn’s direction without looking at him.  “You’re so gorgeous it’s unfair.  You were nice, he really liked hanging out with you, and I saw no reason for him not to leave me for you.  Not one.”

Zayn parts his lips, staring at Harry, dumbfounded, and almost forgetting Louis is even near.

“You’re soft and sweet, and I’m clingy and demanding.  You have this soothing aura about you that I’ll never have,” Harry continues, shyly scratching at his arm.  “I mean, what did I expect?” Harry laughs at himself again, running his fingers through his hair.  “ _You_ were there for him and I wasn’t.  You set aside everything, no matter what you were doing at any given moment, to be with him.  It was going to happen eventually.  I knew it was.”

“Harry,” Zayn starts, bringing Harry to finally lift his head and look at him.  “I was jealous of _you_.  How could you possibly be jealous of me?  I had _nothing_.”

Harry’s mouth is agape as he slowly shakes his head at Zayn, though he doesn’t say anything.  His huge green eyes are more sincere than Zayn’s ever witnessed them, which tells Zayn they’re actually having a genuine moment, and he isn’t just making nice to please Louis.

“Harry, I…” Zayn starts, his breath stuttering a little as he straightens out the sleeves of his jean jacket.  “I was jealous of you, because…because you had it all.  You had the friends, all the confidence in the world, the charisma, and the boy.”

Zayn doesn’t want to say one could definitely be able to hear a pin drop because of how quiet it is, but that statement is actually relevant in this case.  He feels like he’s going to crack under the pressure of both Harry’s and Louis' eyes on him, so he doesn’t dare raise his eyes from his lap.

He’s already started talking, and now both of them are at the edge of their seats with anticipation for however Zayn’s going to build upon what he’d already begun talking about.  He knows that if he’s going to do this with Harry he _has_ to be one hundred percent honest, or else it won’t be sincere.

“You had the one thing I didn’t have, even though I felt like it was in my reach,” Zayn practically whispers, now talking to himself more than to the boys.  “I-I wanted him, and I didn’t even realize it was in a romantic way until I started comparing how your relationship was to how _I_ would treat him.  But he kept going back to you, and I kept growing more envious, and…” Zayn’s fingers itch to ball up into tight fists, but he restrains himself, instead gripping his fingers on his knees.  “I realized I didn’t have normal feelings that a friend is supposed to have for another friend.”

He sees Harry palm his face out of the corner of his eye, but he ignores it and chooses to finally lift his head to catch a glimpse of Louis’ reaction.  There’s no distinguishable expression on his face, but his eyes are wider than usual, and even his upper body is leaned slightly more in Zayn’s direction.  Zayn doesn’t know how to take it, but the beauty of Louis simply sitting there motivates him to keep talking.

“I…” he starts, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Louis even when his own eyes try to betray him.  “I’m in love with you Louis, and I’m certain that’s the main reason Harry has never sat right with me.”  His voice unexpectedly cracks at the word “love”, but he recovers and pushes himself to keep going.  “It’s hard for me to watch someone I love latch onto someone else who’s clearly not good for them, when I _know_ I could be better for you.  I _want_ this—I…I want _us._ I love you—“

“I can’t do this,” Harry says abruptly, rising from his seat and taking hurried steps back down the hall, his head in his hands.

Any focus Louis had on Zayn vanishes into thin air as he turns his head toward where Harry is still making his lengthy exit.  He turns his head back toward Zayn, biting the corner of his lip for a moment before turning back around, starting to push himself on his feet.  “Harry!”

This makes Zayn rise from his seat, and of _course_ , now they’re all standing up and chasing after Harry because the boy just had to make the most dramatic scene.

“ _Louis_!” Zayn yells, probably louder than he’s ever yelled at the boy as he grabs his shoulder and turns him around.  Louis’ lips are parted in shock when he locks eyes with Zayn.

“ _Why_ do you keep chasing Harry?” Zayn yells, his voice desperate and pained.  “Why don’t you just give it up and let him _go_?”

“Because I _love_ him!” Louis screams at the top of his lungs, his eyes already wet by the end of his sentence.  He breathes in and out, a helpless look on his face as he stares at Zayn, who now feels like he’s been struck by an arrow—and not a romantic one.

The only thing heard between them is the sound of Louis heavily breathing in and out after yelling, but Zayn also hears a loud ringing in his ears that he doesn’t know the cause of.

He slowly removes his hand from Louis’ shoulder, letting it fall to his side.  He opens his mouth to speak, before the words get caught in the thickness of his throat.  He almost feels like he might throw up.  Or cry.  Probably both.

Louis’ hand slowly comes up to cover his mouth once he realizes what he’s said and how Zayn has taken it.  Zayn forces out a weak grin as Louis shakes his head.

“Zayn, I didn’t mean—“

Zayn stops him with a gentle hand in the air, taking one step back.  “No, you _did_ mean.  It’s okay, Louis.  It’s okay.”  The absolutely broken sound of his voice indicates that it’s _not_ okay, but he’s going to say it is, just because he doesn’t know how else to handle this.

Louis reaches out a hesitant hand for Zayn, who in turn takes another step back, shaking his head as tears finally start to fall.

“Zayn,” Louis pleads, followed by a sad sigh.  “I love you too, but…” his voice trails off, but Zayn doesn’t have to hear it.  Louis shakes his head so slightly that Zayn could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, because he’s watching all of Louis’ movements like a hawk, just as he’s always done in all their years of friendship.  He knows all of Louis’ tells, what Louis does when he’s happy, the subtle hints he throws around when he’s sad, the slight way he tilts his head when he’s annoyed by something—Zayn knows it all.  It’s funny how oblivious he was to how in love he’s been with Louis this entire time.  Truly pathetic.

The words replay in Zayn’s head as they stand there, unnecessarily far away from each other, even though Zayn feels like it’s still too close.

 _I love you too, but_ …

He’s grateful Louis’ aware that they both have a vague idea about how the sentence ends.  There’s no way to be sure, but there are a couple of possible endings popping up in his mind:  _I love you too, but not in that way.  I love you too, but not as much as I love Harry.  I love you too, but I’m not in love you._ No matter which one of those three choices Louis had been planning on saying, Zayn was going to hurt regardless.  He doesn’t want to know the rest of the sentence from Louis’ mouth, because it would just be the final stab to the wound that Louis has already made—it’ll be the one that officially kills him.  He’d rather be left with the horrid imagination of however Louis was about to end that sentence than actually hearing it.  _Anything_ but hearing it.

He gets the sudden feeling the world is slowly starting to melt around him, as though there had been nothing but vivid color and stunning sights, and now the walls are dripping, caving in, and everything is fading into nothing but a gloomy shade of black and gray.  He still forces a smile though, even as he rubs at his eyes and feels a substantial amount of wetness.

The daisies that he’d left under the passenger seat of his car choose to cross his mind at the perfectly wrong time.  How foolish of him, now that he thinks back to how excited he was to give them to Louis and see the look on his face, because maybe, just _maybe_ , Louis didn’t fucking want them, because all he wants is Harry.  All he’s ever wanted was Harry, and Zayn can’t do anything about that.

“Zayn, please…” Louis chokes out, taking another step forward and grabbing for Zayn’s hand.

Zayn immediately pulls back, wiping his cheeks with his free hand and still keeping a fake grin plastered on his face.  “No, I’m okay.  It’s—I’m fine,” he whispers, his words merely breaths as he keeps his distance from Louis.

Louis looks completely torn, but Zayn knows exactly what he wants to do.  He finally keeps his hands to himself once he accepts the fact that Zayn doesn’t want to be touched anymore, and there’s a moment where they’re holding each other’s gaze, more unsure about where they stand with each other than they’ve ever been before.

Zayn gives him a slight head nod, letting him know it’s okay for him to go and do what he knows he wants to do.

So he does.

There’s one more moment where Louis’ helpless eyes puncture Zayn’s heart, and then he turns around, sniffling and jogging down the hall in order to follow Harry back into his hotel suite.

And that’s okay.

Zayn will find a way to be okay with it, because he’s strong, and he’s independent anyway, and maybe something else will make him happy.  Hopefully.

There’s no way he’ll get through this unless he lies to himself about it eventually getting better, because right now such a thing seems impossible.  He will recover from this.  He _will_.

Except he knows he won’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

{H}

His fingers lightly grip the fork in his right hand as he sits at the kitchen table.  He’s not sure of how long he’s been sitting here, and he knows he should probably be heading out the door because he’s late for school, but he doesn’t really see a point in that anymore.  He can’t bring himself to care about anything when life is being so awful to him right now.

His eyes are glazed over as he stares blankly at the plate in front of him, which is full with his mother’s pancakes, eggs, and two pieces of toast.  Usually, Harry would be smiling with delight at the fact that his mum went out of her way to make him a big breakfast on a school day, but he just can’t get into that “delightful” spirit.

The sound of his mother casually chatting on the phone as she cleans out the sink sounds muffled in his ears as he continues to sit there with no intention of getting up anytime soon.  He doesn’t want to partake in today, or tomorrow, or any day thereafter where things are still the way they are.  He’d much rather stay in and curl up into a ball of self loathing and regret for all of his actions.

“Harry?” he hears, jolting him out of his silent trance of emotions.

He shifts his eyes up to his mother, not having realized she’d ended her conversation on the phone at some point.

“My pancakes are usually your favorite,” she says, followed by a sad sigh as she approaches him at the kitchen table.  She presses her palm against his head to check for a fever, as though he’s a five year old, but he doesn’t voice any complaints.  “Are you okay?”

Harry puts his fork down and shakes his head.  “I just don’t have an appetite,” he answers, his voice a hint raspy.

“Well you have to eat _something_ ,” she says, going back over to the stove where she’d forgotten to turn it off.  “You have practice today after school.  It’s not healthy to go that long without eating anything.”

Harry’s already standing up from his seat before his mother’s finished speaking, moving toward the coat rack by the doorway of the kitchen.  “I’ll just pick up a protein bar or something.”

“Harry…” he hears his mum call out, followed by a groan.  He keeps moving toward the front door anyway, picking his backpack up off the couch on the way and letting himself out.

Obviously, he’s _not_ going to pick up a protein bar, but he knew he had to say it to keep his mum from worrying too much.

The day seems too long already, and as soon as Harry’s pulling out of the driveway, he’s ready to go back home.  He doesn’t think he can truly get through today, but he knows he has to push through it, no matter how hard it will be.  It’s times like these where he has to remind himself that he isn’t weak and has gotten through much harder things in life before this.

It’s just another day of taking special routes to class just so he can walk past him, right before feeling pain in his chest from the boy not even as much as turning his head to look in his general direction.  It’s another day of partaking in useless conversations that he doesn’t even care about, with people that don’t know him, while acting like Louis isn’t constantly on his mind 24/7.  Everyone thinks he’s fine, because he’s so good at making it seem that way.

It’s another day of clutching his pencil in his hand as he watches Louis in his peripheral, making his way toward the back corner of the classroom like he’d begun doing lately.  Those fifty minutes of pain were _already_ bad enough with Louis sitting right next to him and tempting him like no other, but now it’s even worse because the boy is making a point of not sitting next to him.

Harry twists his fingers around one of his curls as he wills himself not to turn all the way around and look at Louis.

He can’t blame this whole ordeal on anyone but himself.  He’d taken it too far, that day in the gym when he almost fought Zayn and then snapped on Louis in front of everyone.  At the time it felt like the right thing to do, because Harry was so hurt he could barely breathe.  It wasn’t even just about Louis fucking _lying_ to him about seeing Zayn, as though Harry wouldn’t know, but it was also about the fact that they were even seeing each other.

When Louis blew it and gave himself away to Harry, it felt like their two years together had been a lie.  His stomach had twisted with disgust at all the images that flashed through his mind concerning Zayn and Louis, and now they were _real_.  He knows how much he trusts Louis and believes that when they were together, all they could see were each other, but after he asked Louis and got a lie in response, he couldn’t help but worry about if they’d already begun doing _things_ when he and Harry were together.  It was absurd, how quickly he doubted everything Louis had ever said to him during his relationship.  He didn’t know who to trust anymore if he couldn’t trust the one person he thought would always be true to him.  It left him lost.

He’s acknowledged all of his wrongdoings, however, so there’s no one he can really be mad at anymore besides himself.  He’d gotten way too comfortable with the idea of Louis always being by his side no matter what, that he’d started to slack off in remembering to make time for him.  He knows he’s made mistakes; he’s said things he didn’t mean to say, done things he shouldn’t have done, and he’s made Louis feel bad about things he has no right to feel bad about.

He grinds his teeth together as his eyes remain set on the board in order to give his teacher the impression that he’s listening.  All he can focus on is Louis, even though the boy isn’t even in his line of sight.  He wonders if Louis’ looking at the back of his head.  He’s probably texting Zayn under his desk, which—that’s okay.  Harry _has_ to force himself to be okay with it.  He can’t continue to be mad at Zayn; it’s neither fair nor healthy.  Zayn isn’t… _that_ bad anyway, if Harry subtracts a lot of things from him.

“Harry!” he hears, followed by a slap to his arm as the student sits next to him.  “That was a nice ass party you threw on Saturday.”

Harry grins for half a second in order to acknowledge the positive comment.  “Thanks.”

It was, in fact, the worst birthday he’d ever had.

His friends had thrown it for him in order to “help him forget about Louis”, and no matter how much he protested, they wouldn’t cancel it.  He couldn’t _not_ show up to his birthday party, so he came with intentions of being so sulky and full of complaints that no one would ever think of throwing him a party again.  The problem was, everyone was too busy partying hard and enjoying themselves that no one had even realized how depressing Harry was acting.  No one even realized when he’d locked himself in the bathroom at some point and stayed in there for the remainder of the night.

That isn’t the reason it was the worst birthday he ever had, however.

That day, on his birthday, was the day he found out Louis no longer loved him.  Louis didn’t say that, but he didn’t have to.  He saw the way Louis looked at Zayn—it wasn’t the way he looked at _Harry_ , but it was special, in a different kind of way.  He couldn’t even _bear_ to listen to Zayn talk about how much he was in love with the boy who Harry thought would be his forever—it fucking _hurt_ , and Louis didn’t immediately turn him down, nor did he look away from him for even half a second.  It was probably the worst feeling he’d ever felt in his life; watching his only love slip from his hands and into another’s, right before his eyes.

Somehow, Harry actually makes it to the end of the school day.  He’s at his locker, trying to figure out how he can pack as little textbooks into his backpack as possible, even though he has quite a load of homework.

He tries to keep his eyes from moving to look for Louis at his locker, but he eventually fails, only to find that the boy isn’t even at his locker and has probably left.  Instinctually, his eyes start to look for Zayn next, and he doesn’t want to admit that a tiny sigh of relief leaves his mouth when he finds him at his locker.

He’s placing his textbooks inside of it with slow, yet precise movements as he stands them up perfectly side by side.  Harry snorts as he watches him from afar, assuming that he’s probably fucking alphabetizing his books in order to maintain a maximum level of organization.  His eyes are careful, and his fingers are gentle when he finally shuts his locker.  Smooth fingers push his glasses back up on his face before he starts toward one of the exit doors.

God, why the _fuck_ is he like this?  Everything he does is so gentle, shy, and innocent, but then he also has moments where he isn’t afraid to get aggressive when he’s standing up for Louis.  That’s what Louis wants; that’s what Louis _needs_.  If he can’t accept the fact that Zayn is the one who’s right for him, no matter how excruciatingly aching that is, he’ll never move forward.

Harry’s done being bitter; done acting like it’s anyone else’s fault but his.  Never again will he make Louis feel guilty for choosing Zayn, because he’s only doing what makes him happy.  If Zayn makes his heart flutter like Harry once did—or like he _hopes_ he once did—why should Harry try and deprive him of that?

Harry slams his own locker before letting his feet carry him down the hall and out of the exit doors he’d seen Zayn leave out of.  He’s relieved to discover that Zayn hasn’t left yet, and he’s almost reached his car.

“Zayn,” Harry says, approaching him from behind just as he’s opening up his passenger door to place his backpack in the seat.

Zayn slowly turns around at the sound of his voice, forcing a grin onto his face that’s clearly no more than a sign of cordiality.

Harry places his hands in the pockets of his warm up jacket, one of his dimples deepening as he presses his lips together before speaking.  “Um…I just kinda…wanted to say…” he starts, the realization that he’s actually doing this starting to hit him.  Zayn gives him all the attention, his eyebrows slightly knit together with uncertainty about whatever Harry’s going to say.  Maybe he thinks Harry’s going to be a douche and try and scare him into never talking to Louis again, but he’s not.  Harry’s past that, and he can’t believe how immature he was being when he used to let his temper and insecurities get the best of him.

Harry only winces a little before he says it.  “There’s no more hard feelings from me.  I just…I don’t wanna do this with you anymore.  It’s childish, and I’ve realized there are more important things to…” he starts, motioning with his hands as he struggles to figure out what he’s trying to say.

Zayn continues to stare at him, thoroughly puzzled and probably just as surprised as Harry at the fact that this is happening.

Harry moves his eyes down and away from Zayn’s, taking a moment to observe him in all his glory.  His black t-shirt with a single pocket in the front where a tiny cat is sticking out, his _fucking_ sweatpants because he hasn’t dared to wear tight skinny jeans in any of the days Harry has known him, his red, fuzzy socks peeking out from under them, his feet slipped into slides that take less than one second to put on in the morning.

It’s such a great difference from how Harry carries himself.  He’s dressed from head to toe in his royal blue warm up gear for the basketball team, and if he keeps his tennis shoes any shade other than white his coach will scream at him.  Harry’s obsessed with making sure things are perfect and pleasing all those around him, while Zayn appears to be the polar opposite.  Harry doesn’t know if he envies him, or if he envies the fact that Louis decided he liked those aspects of Zayn more than he liked anything about Harry.  He doesn’t know what to think.

“I’ve realized I can’t keep blaming things on other people,” Harry continues, his eyes shifting over to Zayn’s car to see the petals of flowers poking out from under the seat.  He shrugs it off and starts to speak again.  “I was wrong about everything, and…I’m sorry.”

Zayn’s mouth is now open slightly as he stares at Harry, the air thick with silence between them.

There, he’s said it, and as much as he thought it wouldn’t change a thing, he feels a little lighter.  Not as light as he would feel if he still had _Louis_ , but—still, lighter.

“I was just so possessive and scared of losing him to you that I resulted to being horrible and ugly,” Harry says, absentmindedly rocking on the heels of his feet.  “I never should’ve ambushed you, or threatened you—any of that.  I’m sorry.”

Zayn nods his head slowly, clasping his hands together in front of him as he’s probably thinking of how to respond.

“I…I was wrong in some ways too,” Zayn finally says, his tone soft and delicate as usual.  Harry can barely hear it over the slight blow of the wind.  “It wasn’t my place to try and pursue him while you guys were dating.  That’s disrespectful.  I also should’ve waited a bit before jumping on him.”

“You didn’t jump on him.  He made his own decision—“

“Yeah, but I didn’t give him space after you guys split,” Zayn admits, sighing.  “At the time, I didn’t know I was being manipulative, but looking back…I was, and I feel dreadful.  I offered myself to him because I knew how easily he’d give in since he was lonely.”

Harry keeps his composure, even as his fingers curl where they’re buried in his pockets.

“More than anything, I was just plain disrespectful to you, and I’m sorry for that,” Zayn says, scratching one of his elbows.  “I’m not really that kind of mean person.  I don’t want you to think I am.”

A small grin pokes at the corner of Harry’s lips as he shakes his head.  “I don’t.”

Zayn toys with the tips of his fingers, leaning on the balls of his feet momentarily as he starts to grin too.  “That’s good.”

“Yeah…” Harry replies, this time sighing a happy sigh as he feels the hard wall between them slowly start to lift up into the air and disintegrate.  The removal of the wall causes Harry to offer his hand out, sucking his teeth at Zayn as he smiles.  “C’mere,” he says, reaching out to clasp hands with Zayn before pulling him into a bro hug.  He pats Zayn’s back twice before pulling back, not even realizing he’d gotten emotional within two seconds.  That has to be a new record.

“What?” Zayn asks with concern once an involuntary choked sound escapes Harry’s throat.

“Nothing,” Harry replies with a sad chuckle, right before patting Zayn’s shoulder.  He feels tears pricking at the back of his eyes yet again, but he _will_ stay strong.  For Louis.

“Just…please.  Treat him well,” Harry says weakly.  “Although I don’t even have to tell you, because I know you will.”

Zayn looks slightly confused, probably because he hadn’t expected Harry to be so openly nice about their newfound relationship.  He’s going to have to get used to a newer, nicer Harry than the one he knew before.  Harry has made a vow to himself to respect their relationship out of respect for Louis and what he has chosen.

Harry gives another friendly pat on Zayn’s shoulder as he tries to swallow down all the emotions threatening to burst out of him.  “See you around.”

He turns around to make his way back toward the school, because he has practice, but also because he’s three seconds away from becoming a sobbing mess.

He tries to blink the tears away as he watches his feet and takes long steps, because this is actually _real._ The timeline of Harry and Louis is _over_ , and probably for good.  A year ago, Harry would’ve laughed if some fortune teller had told him even a fraction of all that had happened in the last few months, but _fuck_ , this is actually happening!  Louis isn’t his anymore, even though on numerous occasions they’ve both declared that it would be completely impossible for them to love anyone else.  What happened to that?  Why is it different now?

Harry feels the tears on his cheeks as he palms his hands over his mouth, trying to stop the tears.  He thought he could stay strong, but right now, with reality starting to hit him like a loaded brick, he doesn’t think he can.

He tightly scrunches his hair in his hands, continuing to try to blink away the sobs.  “This is so stupid…”

“Harry!” he hears Liam call, and he lifts his head up to find Liam jogging down the front steps of the school, right before slowing down upon realizing Harry is crying.  He lifts a hesitant hand to point his thumb back toward the school building.  “Coach was asking where you were…”

Harry sniffles before offering a reply.  “Tell him I’m not coming.”

“But Harry,” Liam says as Harry starts to turn around in order to find his car.

Harry fishes his keys out of his pocket as he lets Liam’s worried words become nothing but murmurs in his ear.

He knows Coach will probably make him pay for this later, but he just _can’t_ be around other people right now.  He needs time to himself to accept this new reality, gather his thoughts, find _some_ way to relieve his intense miserable state.  If he stays around other people for another moment, he knows he’ll crack.  He’s tired of being forced to take part in the day to day requirements of being Harry Styles when he’s not even mentally able to enjoy anything anymore.  Going home is best for him.

His mum isn’t there to question why he’s home early and not at practice, so he’s at least grateful for that.  Once he’s jogged up the steps and into his bedroom, he strips himself of his jacket and leaves his t-shirt on underneath, before grabbing the basketball that’s laid up against the wall over the mini hoop in his room.  Whether he’s with other people or not, the one thing that can always calm him a little, provide him with a sense of familiarity and comfort— _besides_ Louis, is basketball.

Obviously, now basketball and Louis have become interconnected parts in contributing to his happiness, because if Louis isn’t at one of his games he completely loses the ability to play decently.  That’s something he’ll have to work on, because Louis won’t be around anymore, and his team is leaning on him now more than ever as they prepare to go into the tournaments.

He spends the evening on the basketball court in his backyard, trying to keep his mind on basketball so that he won’t think too much.  The weather isn’t making things any easier for him, because the skies are filled with dark gray clouds that are clearly taking pride in mocking his sadness.  He tries to ignore it as he dribbles, sweat beads forming on his forehead as he proceeds to shoot basket after basket from varied distances to the hoop for two hours.

It’s when the abrupt sound of thunder shocks him that he’s pulled from his state of focus, and forced to think about what he’s tried so hard not to think about.

He blinks his eyes multiple times as he dribbles the ball between his legs, pretending to cross-over as though an opponent was in front of him, but nothing helps.  All he can think about is how Zayn is probably snuggled up with Louis right now, getting to enjoy what Harry had so idiotically taken for granted.

It’s no use to think about ways he could’ve prevented this, because there’s no turning back.  That’s the thing about life; everyone only gets one shot at everything, and if this weren’t true, everyone would have exactly they wanted.

But Harry _wants_ Louis.

His basketball bounces off the rim for the fourth time when Harry attempts to make a shot from the three point line.  He swallows before jogging over to retrieve the ball again, determined to make _at least_ one more shot before he gives up and goes inside.

It’s pretty funny that, before now, Harry had thought he’d experienced real heartbreak. _Nothing_ compares to now, when he’s dribbling a basketball alone as little droplets start to fall upon his face, making the single tear on his cheek seem as though it’s a part of the drizzle, and he knows he’s lost the love of his life to someone better.  This is what heartbreak feels like.

He misses a shot again when he completely air balls it, and he just watches as the ball bounces on the ground and starts to roll away.  He doesn’t even move his feet to get it.  He doesn’t _care_ anymore, and nothing is making him happy.

How _long_ will it take for this dark cloud to leave from over his head, because he’s already starting to grow sick of it.  He wants to know, precisely, how much time will pass before he doesn’t feel this pain anymore.

He hears the faint sound of feet crunching against the grass in his backyard, but he continues to stand there, thinking that if some kidnapper wants to come and steal him, he really doesn’t care.

He turns his head to see who it is, and when his eyes fall upon Louis, about ten feet away from him as Harry’s ball rolls to a stop by his feet, he’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating.  He’s wearing a rain jacket, the sleeves just long enough to leave only the tips of his fingers showing, and he has little droplets of rain in his hair, causing it to flop down a bit.  How ethereal he manages to look in the rain only further proves Harry’s assumption that he is hallucinating.

Louis’ lips are etched into a slight frown as he stares at Harry, his feet seeming as though he wants to walk towards him, but he’s not sure if he should.  They’re just looking at each other, and Harry hates that he can’t tell what’s on Louis’ mind just by gazing into his eyes.  He figures maybe if he gets a closer look he’ll be able to read him better, but he decides to continue standing still, allowing the mile space between them to linger.

“So you chose…” Harry says, toying with the bottom of his t-shirt as he looks at the ground around Louis’ feet, then back up at his face.

Louis’ eyes turn apologetic, and Harry can’t fucking _do_ this.  Now, Louis’ walking towards him, and he’s probably going to continue poking Harry’s heart with a stick, and Harry can’t do this.  If Louis and his mesmerizing eyes and stunning features don’t leave Harry’s sight right _now_ , he’s going to crack and probably get on his knees begging for forgiveness, and he doesn’t want to _do_ that.  He’d told himself he was going to respect Zayn and his—

“Harry,” Louis says softly, now standing with about two feet of space in between them.  “It was never a matter of _choosing_ between you two.  _Never_.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as he stands there, not quite understanding but continuing to listen to Louis nonetheless.

Louis sighs once he doesn’t get any type of reaction from Harry.  “Do you understand that?  Tell me you understand that you’re the only option, and you always have been.”

Harry shrugs one of his shoulders as he pouts his lips, trying to make himself understand, even though everything in his mind over the past few months have told him the exact opposite of what Louis is saying.  He knows if they are going to ever move forward, he has to tell the truth.

He’s not surprised the words almost get caught in his throat when he replies.  “I don’t understand, if I’m being honest.  Right now I feel insecure and unsure about everything.”

“Don’t feel that way,” Louis almost whispers, a drop of rain falling from one of his strands and onto his face.  “I just…I needed someone to touch me and make me feel loved, and Zayn…”  Louis cards his fingers through his fringe as he gulps but he continues to speak, even though it’s clearly a struggle.  “I know it’s fucked up and I betrayed you, but we weren’t together and—“

“We weren’t.  And I shouldn’t have made you feel bad about that,” Harry says, his tone gentle.  “I had no right to try and guilt you for something you chose to do when we weren’t together anymore.  I’m so sorry, and I won’t do it again.  Fuck, _I’m_ the one that caused the breakup.”

“Haz, I get what you’re saying,” Louis starts, and Harry hopes his cheeks aren’t noticeably red from the nickname he hasn’t heard in months.  “I get it, but I literally could’ve done it with _anyone_ else.  I chose to do it with the one person I knew would make you hurt most, and I hadn’t even thought about that until I was already doing it.  I’m sorry.”

Harry shakes his head.  “You don’t have to apologize.”

“No, I am,” Louis says, starting to choke up a bit.  He wipes his face with his sleeve as his eyes start to well up.  “I feel fucking _horrible_.”

On instinct, Harry steps closer and reaches out a comforting hand to rub against the back of Louis’ neck.  “It’s okay, baby.”  He hasn’t realized how many boundaries he’s overstepped until he’s already done it.  The desire to protect and comfort Louis is something that has become a part of who he is; _never_ can he sit there and watch while Louis breaks down in front of him.  It’s just not something he can bring himself to do.

“You called me baby,” Louis says through tiny sobs and sniffles.

Harry hadn’t realized he’d done that either.

He parts his lips and removes his hand from Louis’ tender skin, bringing it over to his other arm to hold himself shyly.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to—“

“ _Harry_ , it’s okay.  It’s what I fucking _want_ you to do.  Jesus, it’s all I’ve wanted for _months_ now, and I thought I’d lost forever!”

“No, I…I can’t just get to ruin things and then have the nerve to try and call you baby again,” Harry says as he starts to feel tears prick at the corner of his eyes.  “ _Everything_ is my fault.  Everything.  I was too used to always having you by my side that I thought you’d never leave.  I took everything for granted and didn’t care to spend enough time with you, and then I had the audacity to get mad when someone else did.  I’m so, so, fucking _sorry_ , Louis.”  He’s pretty much sobbing right now as he huffs out the words, and he’s not sure if his t-shirt is damp from the rain or his own tears.

They both stand there, silent tears streaming down their faces, even though Harry is making more of a show of sobbing than Louis.  Harry just wants to close the stupid space between them and hold his boy like he’s yearned to do for a while now.

“I miss you,” Louis breathes out, wiping his cheeks with one of his knuckles.

Harry takes that leap of faith and steps closer, grabbing Louis’ knuckle and caressing it with both of his hands while looking Louis in his glum eyes.  “I miss you too.  So much,” Harry replies, before pressing his lips against Louis’ fingers.  His words are mumbled against Louis’ skin.  “I can’t function without you.”

He breathes in and out through sniffles as Louis slowly laces his fingers in between Harry’s, holding onto his hand tightly as though he might slip away again.

“You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve been crying lately,” Louis says with a solemn grin spread across his face as he continues sobbing.  “Probably makes up for all the time I’ve kept my cries bottled up, holding them in so I couldn’t be seen as weak.”

“It’s _okay_ to be weak sometimes, Louis,” Harry replies.  “That’s why you have people like me, Lottie, your mum—even Zayn.  We’re all always here for you, and we want nothing more than to see you happy.  If I ever made you feel like you couldn’t express your emotions or break down around me, I’m sorry, and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it’s not like that again.  If I get to have _this_ ”—he gives their joined hands a pointed look—“I _swear_ I will cherish it with everything I have.  I’ve experienced what life is like without you and I _hate_ it.  I promise—I’ll do anything to make this work again.”  He grips Louis’ hand tighter.  “I _love_ you.”

Louis looks like he’s taken a breath of fresh air, even though the air between them is occupied by the scent of rain and mildew.  The rain is pleasant to Harry, however; it’s making everything seem more magical, as well as causing the blue in Louis’ eyes to appear more vivid.

Louis brings their clasped hands toward himself, giving Harry the courage to step closer, and he faintly rubs Harry’s hand against his cheek, closing his eyes and leaning into the contact.  When he opens his eyes again, they seem more sure, burning with a passion that Harry had missed seeing so badly.

“I love you too.”

And there it is.  Just like that, it feels like spring has come earlier than it’s supposed to, and flowers are blossoming all around them, as well as inside of him, all because Louis said those three words and assured Harry that the love is still there.  He _feels_ it now; he believes that this was the only option for Louis, because he can see it in the way he looks at him just like he used to, the way he leans into his touch, the fact that he’s even in Harry’s backyard in the _pouring rain_.

Harry grabs Louis’ other hand and intertwines it with his, bringing them up to his chest as he comes even closer to Louis.  He closes his eyes and lets his forehead fall against Louis’, completely oblivious as to how the showers had started to pick up and how drenched his clothes are becoming.

“I promise to always be there when you need me, to put your needs above the things that don’t matter, and not to take you for granted,” Harry whispers, faintly tilting his head out of pure anticipation for getting to feel Louis’ lips against his again.

Louis breathes in and out again, probably as lost in the feeling of being so close to each other as Harry is.  “And I promise to respect that you’ve got other things going on, and never to betray your trust again.”

Harry hums as he nuzzles his face against his cheek, his lips close enough to brush against Louis’ if he moves even a little bit.  He wants this so bad that he almost can’t control himself; he’s going crazy with desire for a person who wants him too, even though just a few hours ago, he was certain it was over for good.  He doesn’t know how to handle such an abrupt change in events, having everything suddenly turn in his favor.

He reaches out two of his fingers that are laced between Louis’, and grips at the collar of Louis’ jacket in order to bring him in and seal the deal.  He feels the familiar warmth of Louis’ breaths on his bottom lip, so he leans in, unable to practice self-restraint at this point.

“Uh,” Louis says, his tone of voice suddenly cheeky, reminding Harry that he should have known it wouldn’t be _this_ easy with him.   Harry opens his eyes to meet Louis’, his brows knit together in frustration.

Louis smirks in a way that makes Harry pout.  “You didn’t think you’d win me over without a one-on-one match, did you?” he asks, letting go of Harry’s hand and whipping around to jog over and retrieve the ball.

Harry rolls his eyes, even though he’s smiling so wide his face might break.  “It’s not called a match—just a _game_.”

“Whatever,” Louis replies, dribbling the ball back over to Harry with some difficulty.  Harry giggles at him as Louis struggles with keeping control of the ball.  “Let’s go, pretty boy.”

Harry thinks back to the very first time they did this, his mind cloudy with remembrance once they start playing one-on-one.  He’d seen Louis everyday in gym class, and it always surprised him that no one else noticed how he always hid himself in the corner on free days.  Harry had found him cute, even though he had been making a great effort to stifle those kinds of thoughts, at _least_ until college, where he would find people who were more accepting of who he was.  He’d been doing a good job, because he’d never gotten a chance alone with Louis that would allow him to slip up, but when he _did_ , Harry went after him like a wild rabbit.  They were alone in the gym, and he figured they were going to be alone for at _least_ five minutes with everyone changing in the locker rooms; so with all the time Harry had spent daydreaming about getting to know him, he just _couldn’t_ let him get away.

As Harry dribbles around a giggly Louis in his backyard, he knows that on that day, he’d made the best decision he could’ve ever made.  Louis is the greatest, most adorable, most interesting person Harry knows, and he has no idea of what life would be like if he’d never gotten to know him.  All he can do is thank the heavens for putting Louis in his path.

“Hope you know you’re losing,” Louis says as he positions himself in front of the hoop, dribbling the ball a few times before attempting to shoot and missing.

Harry raises his eyebrows as Louis goes to retrieve the ball.  “Sure I am, babe.”

Louis begins to position himself on the court and dribble the ball again, before pausing for a moment as a smirk spreads across his face.  “This would be the perfect moment for a grand finish.”

Harry doesn’t waste any time before running up behind Louis, placing his hands on his waist as he buries his face in Louis’ neck and causes him to giggle and squirm away.  Harry laughs as he slides his hand up Louis’ sides, lifting him in the air to help him dunk, just like the first time.  Louis sinks the ball in, smiling victoriously as Harry lets him down.

He pumps both fists in the air in celebration as the ball rolls away, and he then turns around to Harry, his eyes bright with excitement.  “Nine points?”

“Ten,” Harry replies, reaching out and hooking his finger in Louis’ collar, closing the space between them in half a second.  His eyes are focused on all the features of Louis’ face, which are dotted with drops of rain as it continues to pour down.  Not once had either of them commented on how hard it had started to pour down, or how they were probably going to need to throw themselves in the dryer when they went inside the house.

Harry closes his eyes and breathes him in, feeling Louis’ hands come down to caress his hips.

“God, I’ve missed your smell,” Harry whispers

He feels Louis lift up a hand, lightly running his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip and causing him to shiver lightly.

“Not as much as I’ve missed this,” Louis replies, before gripping at the neck of Harry’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

It’s everything that Harry remembers, while at the same time, there’s something completely new to it.  A new level of trust, commitment, add a dash of heartbreak, and they now have this new, much more mature experience that they’ve decided to partake in together.

Harry cups the back of Louis’ neck as he deepens the kiss, feeling as though no matter how much he gets of Louis right now, it just won’t be enough.  These are _nine weeks_ of loneliness we’re talking about, and he’s finally getting to kiss Louis again.  He savors the kiss with every press of his lips against Louis’, every slide of their tongues as they breathe love into each other in the rain, not even giving a care as to how hard it’s begun to fall.

Harry’s aware of how lucky it is that life has decided to give him a second chance, and he knows he won’t blow it.  He needs Louis in the same ways that Louis needs him, and that’s how it’s always been.  He’d never thought he’d be the kind of guy to say that another person completes him, but he’s _definitely_ met that person, and it’s Louis.  He’d still be living a lie and probably hating himself with each passing year if it weren’t for Louis, and he wouldn’t have learned to grow up and accept responsibility for the things he’s done if it weren’t for that boy either.  All of his current happiness, he owes to Louis, and he’s going to spend the rest of his life making sure the boy knows it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seems like just yesterday i was uploading the first chapter and beginning this journey of never ending angst and suffering. thank you so much if you've stayed with this fic through every chapter, thank you for giving me a chance and reading something i've created. you have no idea how much it means to me. :) you are all amazing people who motivate me everyday. thank you!
> 
> (also i feel horrible for zayn and am seriously contemplating a sequel for him fuckkkk)


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